by Joyline Maenzanise
Stepping out into the world,
I brace myself for reminders of my anomalous existence.
The questioning eyes which scan my body for clues,
The glances- often quick, most times, long
The murmurs, the rude giggles.
I am made to feel out-of-place in various hues.
“Are you a boy or a girl?”
Even the curious, little ones want me to tell.
Public spaces are a dread.
I pretend not to but I see and hear it when strangers throw shade
I pretend not to care even as the treatment cuts through me like a blade
With my big goy pants on, I cannot allow this to eat me up,
Lest I probably end up wishing I were dead
My earphones are a huge lifeline,
Providing a shield from this painful interaction with society.
I better not be caught dead needing to relieve myself.
Not looking feminine enough,
Not looking masculine enough.
Whatever room I enter,
Someone is bound to get restless.
My existence is as courageous as it is risky,
My existence is as liberating as it is gruelling.
My existence is as ambiguous as it is confounding.
I occupy the space in-between,
The grey space in a society that needs to see things in black and white.
No! I am not confused,