In Love and Rage

My bright star,

some believe that gender

is two precarious cliffs

connected by tightrope.

That the crossing is both

necessary

and life-threatening.

Live on the tightrope

and risk the fall,

the blows from state

and culture's violence.

Here is what I want you to know:

the violence

does not have to live

under your skin.

You do not

have to hate yourself

to be trans.

You do not

have to suffer

to be trans.

There is no finish line.

You don't have to stay in one place

your whole gendered life;

you can move,

shift,

dance

your way - cross the line

and back. Turn the noose

into a lasso.

Pain

does not make you worthy

of dignity. Of doctors. Of the right

to dress your body.

The road to being yourself

does not have to begin

in a pit of self-loathing.

Dismiss them who insult

your very soul, the ones who

would consign you

to a single stripe

of the rainbow that holds us all.

The ones who think that gender

is a destination, a fixed point,

an X or a Y on a map with only two countries

and a one-way bridge.

My love,

remember your fingerpaint days,

the way the streaks ran

into your palms,

how you clapped them

into a muddy mix.

You have permission

to be messy. To be unfixed. To be unsure.

Come to me in joy,

sweetheart. Show me your whole self,

the shape and color of the way you move

through this world, and I will cheer

your exploration, by your side

and at your back.