It’s an act of life

A poem I wrote recently about how gender is a performance and the negative effects of it

poclaretry

We’ve all been part of the freakshow circus

officially known as gender

since the day we were born.

He’s a boy!

He’s born with a penis

so we’ll clothe him in blue

and he’ll grow up to be manly,

and we’ll tell him to

never be a sissy or a

big girl’s blouse.

She’s a girl!

She’s born with a vagina

so we’ll dress her in pink

and she’ll grow up to be

a pretty little girl,

but we’ll tell her to man up

when she’s being too much

of a girly girl.

While he plays with trucks, trains

and his macho action figures,

she plays with dolls in prams and

she helps with making the tea,

washing the pots and doing the laundry;

she’s praised ‘You’ll make a good wife one day’.

The innocence of childhood departs with the

abrupt arrival of puberty,

slapping you right in the face

View original post 434 more words

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