To Dream (July 18, 2018)

Society says

It's acceptable

For people

To be different.

And yet

Reality said

Otherwise.

Especially

When one looks

At the various phobias

Describing violent reactions.

From verbal

Or physical attacks

To outright shunning.

As if

These actions

Will magically make

People disappear

From sight.

Rather

Drive them

Deep underground

To avoid harassment.

Taking a heavy toll

Emotionally

And mentally

Living a dual life.

As depression

And anxiety mount

Of being caught

Even with support.

How people will react

Positively or negatively

To their true selves.

Expecting the worst

Hoping the best

From society.

As we chase rainbows

For the pot of happiness

At the end.

Therisa © 2018

Author's note: I know things have gotten better for the transcommunity, but it's still a scary place for us. Maybe, one day, people will look back to this time, as the beginning of the enlightenment for us. One can only hope so.

Society's Wilderness (July 18, 2018)

I don't remember

Who was the first person

That I taught me

How to hate myself.

It may have been

My younger brother.

Or the kids

In the rural schoolyard

Upon starting kindergarten

Attacking verbally

And physically

For being different.

Not sure

If it's a mercy

Or a curse.

Having forgotten

Those young boys’ name

Who taught me

Being openly transgender

Is playing Russian Roulette

With one's life.

In publicly saying

I wanted to be

Wonder Woman

At the age of 7

During the 1970s.

Spending the next 28 years

In destructive self-denial

Thoughts of daily self-harming

Never far away.

Viewing life

A living death penalty

Without any appeals

Or hint of parole.

Hoping

Never waking up

Next morning

After a night’s sleep.

Anger grows

Having survived

Through the night.

As I move around

The edges of society

Seeking the promised land

From the wasteland

I have walked.

Therisa © 2018

Author's note: From most of my life, I have endure the verbal, physical and mental abuse from others, because I was different. In the case of my family, my mother smothered and manipulated me, taking every major decision out of my hands, as she tried to protect the 4 year old child, who came upstairs, with her mouth blown wide open from electrical burns. As for my younger brother, he’s a narcissistic person, who needs the attention of others.

A poem for Poets United’s midweek motif writing prompt: wilderness.

Life Goes On (September 12, 2016)

"The hardest years, the darkest years, the roarin' years, the fallen years 
These should not be forgotten years 
The hardest years, the wildest years, the desperate and divided years 
We will remember, these should not be forgotten years"

Forgotten Years by Midnight Oil (!990)

Have never thought

Of myself

As being brave

Or courageous

Like others

Have told me.

Rather

Someone

Who is struggling

To understand themselves

And how society see

Them.

Have spent

Most of my life

In hiding.

Running

From a violent past

On various fronts

In my life.

Many ways

I feel like

That 7 year old child

Who fled home

On her bike.

Crying

As the village boys

Threatened her

With shunning

And violence.

In wanting 

To be

Wonder Woman.

While 

Playing super heroes.

Only

To reemerge

Twenty-eight years later

As an adult.

Forced

To fight

A brutal war

On several levels

For my very survival

Over the past 11+ years.

As a person

With true value

And meaning.

Where

Every milestone is

A victory

Over the darkness

In my life.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: Today (Monday, September 12, 2016), I read about the early death of Alexis Arquette, who died, from complication from AIDS. One of the many daemons that plague my community, like mental illness and self-medicating with drugs and alcohol. May we all find true enlightenment and knowledge, for having people, like Alexis, in our lives. Thank you Alexis.

Secret Agent Gurl (May 4, 2016)

Like a spy

On a dangerous mission

Slipping through life

Over two years

In the deepest cover.

Living the stress

Of a dual life

Straddling
The gender divide.

One foot

Firmly

In the closet.

My nerves

And senses

Hyper-vigilant.

Every knock

Upon my door
Sent hiding

My feminine self.

Knowing

Society frowns

Upon "males"

In dresses.

Something

I've learnt

The hard way

As the memories

Of being trans-bashed

Lingers.

Those drive-by slurs

Whether transphobic

Or homophobic.

Doesn't just evaporate

Into thin air

Like dry ice does.

However

I wish

They would.

Is it

Any wonder

So many trans-people

Attempt suicide.

Given

This warm reception

From society.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: From 2005, until June 2007, I walked the narrow dividing line, between male and female, when I lost my apartment, and was forced, into a woman's homeless shelter, in Toronto. As I had to physically move, to Toronto, from Brampton (about 30 minute drive, by car) , for there are no shelters there that are aimed, to help the trans-community, like Toronto has done. It's ironic, by losing my housing freedom, I have gained, the freedom to dress, in my true self, as a woman, full time, 24/7/365.


For more information, about the daily struggles that the trans-community faces, please click on the following link: http://www.vocativ.com/culture/lgbt/transgender-suicide/