Tearing Your Eyes Away

CW: dysphoria, body image issues, internal and external homophobia and misogyny, religious homophobia, family

Tearing Your Eyes Away

You're eleven years old,

An awkward, chubby tomboy

And there's a girl in your class

With long, soft, shiny hair

And sparkly pink lip gloss.

She's so pretty, so captivating.

She looks like a princess.

You can't tear your eyes away.

You're thirteen, 

In your awkward phase

And so very desperate to be wanted

But not sure if you want.

And maybe you don't

Feel quite at home in your gender

Or in gender at all.

But let's put all those feelings away,

Those feelings you won't quite

Let yourself feel.

Like the discomfort with your chest

The tears that come sometimes,

When you see yourself in the mirror.

The flutter of happiness

With that sacred pronoun,

They.

Let's put all those feelings away,

Like the singing in your chest

When a pretty girl laughs.

Or your awe at all these angels you see

The wonder in your voice

When you breathe her name.

And you think maybe

But it's probably just a phase.

That's what you tell yourself

When you can't tear your eyes away.

It's the day before you turn sixteen

You're sitting in Spanish class,

Your chair facing the door.

A girl asks to take something to

The front office or go to the bathroom.

You don't remember now,

And it doesn't matter.

And as she leaves the classroom,

Something in you stirs.

That night, you write in your diary -

I think I might be bisexual.

And the acknowledgment is terrifying.

You've spent years trying 

To be "not like other girls".

To be pristine and pure,

Genuine and kind,

Selfless and brave.

Not shallow,

Not mean,

Not catty,

As you've been taught to think they are.

You've spent years trying

Not to be like other girls.

How can you love them?

And what will your family think?

They've already said 

That your love is a sin,

Worse than murder,

An abomination against God,

And they don't even know

You're capable of having it.

But eventually,

Slowly,

Clawing and scratching

The whole way there,

You learn to accept it.

You learn to love the stirring

In your chest,

The softness of your blush,

The sweet shyness

You feel

When a beautiful girl

Brushes her hand

Against yours.

You listen to music that emboldens you.

You learn to love other women.

You learn to love yourself.

You learn to feel more...

Not comfortable, never comfortable...

But at least okay

In your gender.

You learn about people who are both,

Who are neither,

Who are not quite either.

You learn that you are one of them.

You are neither

And not quite either.

You are a blank space,

In delicate limbo

Neither of them feels right,
Male or female, penis or vagina,
Venus or Mars, pink or blue,
But woman seems...vaguely closer.
You twist in and out of that,
Identifying with womanhood
But never fully as a woman.
It's hard and strange and scary,
And nuanced and complex and beautiful.
Womanhood and ambiguity and
Blank spaces and limbo,
Folding together like the petals of a rose.

You layer on sports bras, then you bind,
Your chest gaining a semblance of flatness,
You are called sir and they
You draw confused stares
You accept that you don't,
That you can't,
Fit in the box created for you.
You still check "female" on papers.

And you tumble,

And fall,

And get scraped and hurt and burned

By people you trusted.

And you learn to hate your love of girls.

But then you love yourself again

And the beauty and glory

Of Sappho's song,

Of a girl's lips crashing against yours

And your nervous hands against her skin

Clumsily,

Softly,

Tenderly,

Desperately.

Aphrodite is present here

Artemis is present here

Ruth, Naomi, Hathor, Brigid, Freya,
And all the rest,

Because this love is holy, holy, holy
In whatever form it takes.

And you don't know anymore
If you love men this way, too.
But for now, it's enough.
This love is holy, holy, holy
No matter how your people suffer,
No matter how you grieve,
No many times you're left heartbroken.
And you've finally gained the courage
To not tear your eyes away.

***

Okay, I wrote this poem on impulse, specifically for any LGBT people who are learning to love themselves, especially teenage wlw who grew up in religiously homophobic environments or who are struggling with internalized misogyny.

It's based on the story of how I realized I was nonbinary and sapphic. I hadn't written a poem in awhile and this seemed like a good one.

It's also lowkey my first intentional act of devotion to Aphrodite, who has been showing Her presence a lot in my life, silently guiding me while I question my sexuality, try to help and protect my loved ones in the aftermath of Trump's election, learn to love myself and cope with my dysphoria, and accept that I might have a limited ability to love romantically. I don't know if I want or should have a patron deity, but if I ever have one, I want it to be Her.

And if you're questioning your sexuality or gender or you're struggling to accept yourself, don't be afraid to leave a comment here, or if we know each other, contact me.