The question about my identity

Trigger warning: abuse, physical assault, bullying

 

I wake up every morning.

Get ready to face the cruel world.

The mirror on my bathroom wall

Doesn’t praise me unlike

The ones in fairy tales.

The bruises on my left cheek

From the punches that a random stranger

Threw at me haven’t healed yet.

The cut on my upper lip from last night

When my drunk father abused me

And told me he would rather have me dead,

Hasn’t stopped bleeding yet.

I put on a baggy t-shirt

And a pair of jeans.

I look into my reflection in the mirror,

The feeling of dysphoria kicks in

And I notice how

My breasts weigh me down.

I feel like an imposter

Trying to fit into a body I don’t recognize.

I skip my breakfast

Because my mum doesn’t like looking at my face.

I walk to school and

I face the guys, who bully me,

In the hallway.

I know two of them are in love

With each other

But they are afraid to accept it.

I smile at them,

For I pity the weight of misogyny

They carry on their chest.

It’s heavier than my weight of dysphoria

Because at the end of the day,

I still refuse to fit into

The stereotypical gender norms

Some old men created.

I still wear my pride on my chest

Every night, when I go to bed.