I was in therapy learning that I was a girl.
Sugar and spice and everything nice.
At the same time my little brother’s emergence into this world was being celebrated.
Snips and snails and puppy-dogs’ tails
YAY! they said. His penis a glorious thing!
He will stand to pee even!
He gets to carry on the family name!
They needed a “real boy” to do the job.
The dolls in therapy proved I was not a “real boy”
I was a defect….even the girl doll proved that one.
I was not a girl.
But what would I know.
John Money seemed to know….was that his name?
So they made sure I knew I as a girl.
My brother was in my face all the time, while I was being erased.
I felt I was suffocating to death at night…when I was put to bed.
My worse fears were that I would die.
The abandonment was horrible, especially at night.
My mom’s love…nobodies love, could fix it.
There was no comfort for this type of pain.
It is the worse pain.
Night was a dreadful time.
So they turned me into a “tom boy”.
I resented it.
I was not stupid.
So, my dear brother, if it is too much to be in my life now,
I have no choice but to accept this all is too much for you to handle.
I am powerless.
It was never my fault.
However, don’t you ever again say
that mom and dad saved me from bigotry raising me a girl!
Yes, they did the best they could.
The “experts” taught them well.
The consequences…my life being thrown away.
Thanks to a social construct that creates
right and wrong bodies.
I was erased…..