Female. Human. Accident

My mind is a barrel of snatched blurbs, tweets, quotes

Addled fear of a trans future where nothing is safe, women are lost, dismembered body parts and bad fakes present an ironically homogenised veneer, a plastic coated farce on a planet that burned while we were all busy looking in the mirror

Our children meddled, operated, maimed, sterile

Neither he nor she nor happy, a disenchanted generation with problems unsolved by delighted masochistic surgeons and big pharma

I'm not trendy, or right wing

I'm an accidental mother of a perfect baby grown teen,

Capable, beautiful and caught

Ideological contagion has netted my wonder, given her a way to be she by being he

He who leads the world, he is strong, confident, less vulnerable, successful, he suffers less, he who is as accidental as she, 

He, her unemployable father

He, the stepfather who grounds her. Him. 

It's nothing to do with all that, she says

It would be trivial but for everything

He who pisses in ballgowns, he who rapes and hates, he who cancels, shouts loudest and forces himself

He who murders women

My daily weep is my helplessness, my poor strong heart worn weak. 

I have nothing to say but everything to wail and no where, no where to go with this

Affirmed, everywhere but here in my heart where I know she is safe from him

He is a promise that cannot be kept. He is  a teleportation lost to deep space.

She, in her own body, living her life, repeating words given, lies told, that "feeling like" makes real. A performance endorsed and encouraged at every step

I bought that helicopter toy because it was an excellent toy, not because I thought my little girl was a little boy in the wrong body.

I made glittery costumes, crowns and wings because she wanted them, not because she was a girl.

In her loss, I lose myself. I've lost the hearts and parents of the girls who questioned or simply laughed.

My words caught in my throat, my waking nightmares invading my sleep. I question the cut of my trousers and remember hating my curves, hating my own failure at perceived femininity. Hated myself.

I'm not like you, I'm not strong, she said

I'm not strong, I'm a mess. An angry hurt mess. I am hurt by the world that did this to us.

I. Female, human, accident