First of all
Before anything
I was coated in glitter and frills and itchy sequins and mud
Before anything I was rosy cheeked and loud and everywhere and nowhere
I was kicking footballs and putting dresses on boy dolls
Before anything
I knew nothing of identity
I only knew people
Im the first of all,in my family.
First of all,it's being seven
Seven and told you can't play with the girls your not feminine enough
Seven and screamed at,mocked and kicked by the boys for not being strong enough
Only allowed to be the kicker at recess
Until the football on the roof is your fall
Now no one wants your around
Its hating sweethearts and jeans
Its hating tight clothes and the color pink
Its not the color pink I hated
Its what it's affiliated with
Its shoulder pads and binders
Its boxers and bleeding gums
Its slouching and raspiness
Sometimes it's even ragged skin snagging on a loose sweater
Yelping and convulsing in silence
Its praying it won't catch again
Its being the loudness in a room where a woman is afraid
Its holding the door for everyone and nodding
Its picking a fight you invited yourself to
Its Crashing a party everyone thinks your meant to be at
Its wearing your sleeves rolled up
Its still fresh from last night
At a Cafe table with your friends
Its sitting there straight backed and bold
Its being insulted and berated for red stripes I bore
And looking in that boys eyes
Its knowing what he knows I know
Its forcing meek words strong into the air
Its telling your father you aren't that beautiful girl he only just now met
Its playing football in the yard with him
Its perfect gun fights
Its cackling over bad video game designs
Its parodies and heart shattering memories
Its the only things he can remember from when he was young
Oh how much I'm like him
Its you who paved the way for me
Its you who showed me what a man could be
Its what a man can come from
Its what a man chooses
Its threatening others who harm your younger siblings
Its the awkward hug when your sister can't go to anyone else
Its the knowing you should show her more love
Its the booming laughter that others try to shut up
Its what i "chose"
Its not a decision to be made
Its the silent suffering you choke on
Its the agony you violently clear from your throat and stand up
Its the balled fists and the stern
"Get it the fuck together" when you've got work to be done
Its being a man