Gender Game

You wanna give me a shiner

Cause I look like this

And I got a vagina?

See, I'm familiar with this Gender Game,

I've played this war many times before

On this playground called my identity

When puberty hit like dodge balls

And freeze-tagged as sissy-fagged

My best friend dissed me- common interests,

Different anatomy.

See, vagina meant quieter, caretaker, peacemaker.

Vagina meant keeping lips closed, keeping bodies posed.

Vagina was silent dolls and no action toys,

Vagina was punches when I played with the boys.

So I learned to take it in the stomach, I learned to Fight to make friends.

And as I learned to make that bullshit end,

Vagina became a slippery slide for my little finger

Vagina became a quiver that lingered,

Vagina became what I looked for, worked for, stood for,

I "Viva La Vagina'd all over the place!"

I revitalized Vagina's grace, I discovered vagina's taste.

I became a fine diner. Put my face in vagina after vagina.

And then I was faced with some other lipservice

Putting me in my place

That Vagina should not be liberator.

But dictator.

Of the shoes we wear. The hair we crop.

The palms we clasp. The way we walk.

The space we use. The threads we choose.

Well, I refuse to follow suit.

Cause I gotta confess, my straight jacket is a dress.

You know it used to be a crime

To wear clothes that didn't scream

"Vagin-A!"

I wear these shoes so I can move with my own easy spirit.

I don't shave my legs cause

It gets cold. Besides, my legs rebel

Against the bloody hell of

Shaved and sliced

And since when is my body hair something to judge?

Is furry a male privilege-

Or a patriarchal plot by gillette?

I don't cut my nails cause I've got hammering to do.

I'm pounding out my path as I cruise this gender landscape,

As I peruse the choice between silence and

Violence.

Matthew Shepard was bent, so you hang him to a fence,

Brandon Teena was murdered as a liar for hiding his

Vagina. And I can't even sit

In a restaurant without causing a stir:

"Whaddya have sir? Whaddya have sir? Whaddya have sir?"

I have a Vagina!

Yes, I've got a vagina and you can still call me sir,

Cause I can't cure

This visual disease of yours.

But I don't give a damn about "Sir" or "Ma'am".

So, in the "F" or "M" boxes they give,

I forgive myself for not fitting in

And blame the world for lack of clarity.

I deliberate.

Penis? I got one y'know. I write down "d" for dildo,

I write down "D" for

"Don't know," I fill in "F" for

fi-fie-foe male!

Yes, I'm a giant Vagina!

And I am too big for these boxes they give,

Too real for this Gender Toyland

Built over soiled contradictions

With Barbie bricks and Ken cornerstones

Built over the skulls and bones of our Transgendered Ancestors.

Danger:

She-men working above. And beyond. You.

Yes, we are Deconstruction Workers.

We are exposing unfounded bedrocks

That bed us to one sex, that wed us to one gender.

We are overturning those stones,

We are throwing them back.

We are making revolution

A gender evolution.

We are invoking strategy, we are revoking shame.

And we are calling it. We are calling it

Refusal to be Named.