A Story To Tell

Hey everyone A poem written for mums with trans daughters to prepare them for some of the challenges their girls might face and also some of the problems they may encounter as mums because of the transition.

As a trans women I know the improvement that transition has brought to my quality of life but even good things can be occasionally scary. Believe me transition is different for every woman who goes through it but you can’t just cherry pick the good bits life doesn’t work like that and only a fool would say otherwise. So if no women has the perfect life then why should transwoman be any different?

The truth is we’re not but we all have a journey to take and a story to tell. This poem entitled A Story To Tell gives an honest account of my journey so far I hope you find an enjoyable and thought provoking read.

A Story To Tell

Thanks to my hormones
my mood swings can mean
I panic scream laugh and dream
within the space of five to ten minutes
those lovely oestrogen bombs
know no limits on what they will do
their work is ongoing and means
I am a work in progress
my face I’m told now has
a more feminine shape
than was the case
at the start of my journey
though that’s not the change
people notice first
It’s usually my bust
or the fact I have hips
which one female friend calls
a cushion for the pushing
I am occasionally told
my bum does look big
in whatever I’m wearing
and I am given advice
on how to look nice
or should I say nicer
told what colour eyeliner
will flatter my complexion
not to worry about rejection
from those to dim to understand
I am I think in command of my situation
to a greater degree than before
I am not easy to ignore
I stand out in a crowd
without being loud
or feeling the need to shout
to the world and her mother
look at me, notice me
attention is the last thing I need
all I ask as the song once said
is a little respect
discovering myself
I am happy with what I find
I put the past behind me
move on to my tomorrow
my world
and you know what
this woman who didn’t get the chance
to be the girl she knew herself to be
is the real me
the me that knows what it’s like
to be a single woman
standing alone at a bus stop
at night
yes it can be frightening
when drunks pass by
or worse try to start a conversation
you just don’t want to have
make sexist remarks
like are those boobs real
think there being smart
I smile serenely
and think the only heart they ever broke
was their mum’s
playing dumb I don’t comment
but content myself with the thought
that this has to go in to a poem
and make sure that it does
like that mad but lovable aunt
the one whose prone to rant
I make a fuss over my younger female friends
tell them I will be there when they need me
then be sure that I am
I’m not the jam and Jerusalem type
but I won’t leave the house with laddered tights
and always try to live my life
the way I know I should
It’s not all about being good
In traditional sense of the word
It’s about knowing that life
is a cocktail of the brilliant and the absurd
and sipping it with style
smiling for the camera
i walk tall and proud
my head was never in the clouds except on that night
that one night
when I got chatted up at the dancing
by someone i actually fancied
and that was the night
I risked a journey to discovery
found out what good kissers can do
and the smile on my face told the story
and you have to trust me on this
though the best part has still to be written
I do have a story to tell

@ Gayle Smith 2015


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