17 I wake up every morning, spending an obscene amount of time staring at myself in a mirror. Ask me what I see. My face becomes blurry, faded. How can I be defined by a label of Man or Woman when I have the body of a Woman, but my mind and soul are numb, numb to labels or judgment, bruised from being forced into a box where I will never fit. How do we define femininity? Is it masculine of me, to speak up? to believe me worthy of choice, of opinion, of laughing at your jokes? I look at the strong women of my generation, women of color, yet women of pride, women of power, yet women of beauty. I ask myself if I am beautiful. My mind stays silent. I am forced to believe I am not, and no one has told me otherwise. Because I am not fragile, not weak. I will not succumb to your ego. Why must I feel forced to scream in endless agony just so you won’t hear me? You. You have consumed me for too long. Let me take off this lie and live my life, as neither Man nor Woman, but as truth. Because truth has no gender, and a lie has no face.
Truth
By: mightysnivy
