Living through contradictions
—
the way you look at me
makes me feel like prey
i don’t know if you want to fuck me
or kill me
but its probably both
He walks back to the counter. I look at my phone trying to hide the fact that I know he’s been staring at me for the last few minutes, it’s felt like a few minutes at least.
“Is the easter holiday over?”
“uhm, i’m not s-sure, i think so?”
…
…
“Do you have instagram?”
“yeah.”
“Can I add you on there?”
“uhm… sure.”
Instant regret, but if I didn’t he might feel upset and I’m not sure if I want to deal with that. He frantically scrolls and hides whatever he was looking at; I accidentally see something, but my pattern recognition is malfunctioning. My gut said it’s probably porn, my brain replied don’t be mean.
“What’s your username?” He hands me his phone, red flags protrude from his skin like fire ants. I get flustered and confused, he actually went through with it; usually people hate me, he probably does too. After he’s done with me he’ll kill me and dispose of me, probably in the sea, it’s not that far from here.
“i’m sorry, it’s okay, don’t worry”
He nods in slight sorrow, he goes back to making the food I paid for.
I’m lucky he didn’t spit in my food.
A couple days before, a man angrily said “what even are you?” to me, outside the spoons we were going in. I tried to ignore it but it kept itching at my brain, ticks trying to bury in, worms trying to gnaw at my grey matter. My Mum looks confused and annoyed however allows it to happen, I feel like I deserve it.
Most days people stare at me in the street while I pass, the same way they would look at a cockroach. It’s been happening more since the ruling last week, or at least I been noticing it more; but maybe it’s the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon.
State enforced sexual abuse for trans fems, and for any cis women they want to molest too; they can just accuse you of being one of the undesirable desirables: “I know you have a penis, prove to me that you don’t.“
Violence against trans feminine people isn’t enough for any political action, only when a group which is seen as digestible is affected along side us, then they want to help.
We are fruit too misshapen for care.
It’s weird when you grow up being seen as a boy, being called gay or girly or whatever insult derived from the system we have been brought up in, and then when you say you are a woman, or a feminine gender, they call you a man.
We are dissected into parts, categorised, and fetishised, like all women are. We are stronger as one, divided we are weakened. Trans rights are women’s rights. We are humans, not sexual objects to be used and discarded. We are not a human manifestation of single use vapes with rechargeable batteries. We still exist after the headlines dissipate, and it’s only getting worse.
Look up the etymology of the word “bad”.