Summary: One of he poems I'm reading for the slam. The name 'Tony' is not the name of the person actually in the poem. I took some liscense. Enjoy.
The bracketed parts I need help on ><'
I thought you were a beautiful woman, and then you showed me pictures and told me you wanted to be called by ‘he’.
And I thought you were a lovely man.
You thought we’d welcome you, that American had room for one more dream.
That America was where ‘he’ could be you, the homeless, the blacks, the yellows, the reds and that boy in my math class who proudly wears his rainbows across his forehead in words that used to spell ‘cigarette’ and ‘happiness’.
Now spell ‘fag’ and ‘gay’.
[Instead America burned you at the stake.]
So you dream in charcoal of those we forgot to take down from swinging ropes and telephone poles projected on silk screens and museum walls for those who come after us to learn about.
Because we do not take the time to teach ourselves.
You are today’s history lesson.
The face between the front and the back covers we skim over in attempts to rewrite the textbook. Since history is what we choose to remember about the past, we want to forget the pieces of you we share.
We want to erase the color green, because that’s your favorite. Peaches, lemon-poppy seed muffins and Harry Potter share that fate. The right to dimples, silver and the overuse of your cell phone are to be revoked.
We would like to ignore your voice, too much like our own.
We would like to forget Stonewall and Shepard, hide the pinups and magazines and write you off as a fluke.
Or a flaw.
To use our words to gloss you over in slimming airbrush, flatten you to a postergirl and sell you to the therapists so they can tell us what to think.
I have been told ‘ftm’ should not be said aloud
And that you are not a woman, or a man, I should associate with.
You have been told that procreation is God’s gift to you as a woman, that you have rejected His gift, His children and His message when all you did was straightened your back bent from the cross-shaped shadow pressed on your shoulders by your peers intent on saving you…
When you had no idea you were drowning until they Baptized you.
You are today’s war on psycho-trauma.
The person society created and should pay money to fix.
You are the face they want to give to pedophiles, rapists and ruined marriages.
They want to pull you to pieces, give your hands to men twice your age, leave your fingernails at the crime scene and your skin on the inside of broken wedding rings.
You are a beautiful boy.
The history you want to create with your name is not a treaty or an olive branch.
It is not another excuse to dumb down the truth that people have shoved behind a wall of censored books and Berlin bricks.
Your name is not a declaration of war or a Pearl Harbor of our social values.
Your name is the author of the history that has not yet been made.
[And since history is what we choose to remember about the past, I choose to remember you.]