Jessie Vanderwall

i hate being transgender

sometimes i think this is all for attention

and i’m faking the entire thing,

that people are right and i’m just confused,

and i’m gonna regret it when i’m older.

but if it’s all for attention,

why do i cry in the middle of the night

because my face is too soft

and my chest is too big

and my voice is too high?

why do i wish on every star,

every dandelion,

every eyelash,

every 11:11

that i could be a boy?

if i was born a boy, i would have no questions.

i wouldn’t look at myself in the mirror

and wonder why i see a face that’s not mine.

if i’m faking it,

why, more than anything, do i want to be normal?

to just be a girl like i’m supposed to.

a normal girl

who loves her body

or maybe even hates it

but doesn’t have the urge

to take a knife and hack off her chest until it's flat and bleeding

every time she looks down

or runs up some stairs

or breathes deeply and feels the restraint of the sports bra she never leaves home without.

a girl who wants to wear makeup

and be pretty,

to talk to people like she cares

because she knows who she is

and what she feels.

if i’m confused,

why do i feel like screaming

every time i hear “she” and “girl” and “daughter?”

why do i want to tear my hair out

because it’s too long and too nice,

because i asked for short hair and got a pixie cut again

because no one will give a girl a boy’s haircut?

i would give up everything just to be thought of as a boy.

i want people to look at me and think “he” and “boy” and “son.”

they wouldn’t have to put in effort to call me “he/him”

and i’d never have to do girls’ sports

or father-daughter dances.

and if i wore makeup, they would call me a slur

but that’s okay, because i’d rather be a faggot than a girl.

and even after all this wishing and talking and screaming,

sometimes, i still think it’s bullshit.