I am one minute old when they determined that
my genitals are different.
To use their language
I am to be “corrected” as if I am wrong.
I am one year old when they said to me
that I am a girl, but needed something extra
to keep me “a girl”.
They called it the solution, as if it wasn’t a manipulation.
I am five years old when they confused me
called me names that weren’t “she”
because I needed the “extra” to keep me a “she”.
I thought they were my friends, as if they could understand.
I am fifteen years old when he asked me why my private parts looked weird.
I was so ashamed and embarrassed.
I thought I was the one to be condemned, as if he wasn’t the perpetrator.
I am twenty years old when I found them
the same as I,
as lost as I,
as glad as I;
as singular as “I”.
I am twenty-five years old when she embraced me into her arms.
You can be whoever you are,
woman or not,
different or not.
this, that, them;
prudent, valiant, strident