The Feline’s Mantilla

There is no greater veil than the one I wear.

The majority of my life was spent in despair.

Living a lie with my heart cleanly cloven.

I am of course talking about being a Trans Woman.

At a time where skivvies were all the rage,

and makeup was on every rockstar on the stage.

Yet being true to myself was akin to the plague.

Sometimes I wish the mask would have stayed.

It’s not unlike what is happening today.

Except every time i go to the bathroom in a public space,

a hailstone of bullets is thrown my way.

I must be careful not to be made.

Look at those young transfemme they are so brave.

I’m left wishing for the opportunities they have today.

Yet my veil exists for them too, in so many ways.

If only they would just talk to me, and learn my history.

I remember those days where being discovered meant death,

and I’m not talking about it in a metaphorical way.

Yet this could not stop me from the veil of the night,

traversing the city like an alley cat dressed to the nines.

Slipping in and out of the clubs before the raids.

I felt safer in the shadows as the police targeted the gays.

Then the young constable showed his unremarkable male-gaze,

and I’d show them a little theatre to send them on their way.

Sometimes it would work, other times it did not.

The beatings we suffered were just anticipated for our lot.

I’d cry and bleed in the backstreets on the journey home.

This alley cat had had her fill, I really wanted to kill those cops.

Yes those children are so brave,

yelling at the men in uniform at every protest and rave.

They don’t realise it yet but they are too wearing a veil.

Masking their fear of what happened to us, with how badly they behave.