how to offer consent on being seen

This is not easy. This is defined as a rough draft body memoir. This is a human dressed up today as a   a    ….a. …a.

It can be difficult to exist in the ways in which we really desire. For instance, I exited my home located on a street in a borough in a city on the east coast. I carried the dirt of all my clothes–from two weeks of living–in a blue bag, clung to forearm, then shoulder. Off to laundromat on a day of the week I can no longer remember. But I can recall the interruption of my feet against stiff ground, scent of tired and spoiled:

Damnnnnnnnnnnnn…….. Damn, you are fine. God bless, you miss. God bless, you. You are beautiful. Thank God for you. I like that. 

And I wanted to tell him: I do not believe in God, sir, so I’m not sure we have anything to do with one another. I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t really asking for a reaction to my existence and if I could possibly critique his language, I’d much prefer silence to whistle. I wanted to tell him that I wish men like him could be fined. I wish humans like him could be fined for interrupting others from just walking. I wanted to tell him that he interrupted my imagination. He took apart my blur and labeled me into something I’d prefer not to be.

It can be difficult to exist in the ways in which we truly desire.

I am on 4 train D train A train 3 train some train and I search out the faces of humans with fur against cheeks and I am searching out humans with flat against chests and I want to ask them how they do that.

Someone recently asked me: If I think someone smells good or I like how they’ve put themselves together, do you think it’s ok for me to tell them? How can we compliment consensually?

It is necessary to acknowledge that being present within one’s body can be more than just a challenge. It can be painful. There are moments where we break out of others’ boxes and become loud.

These are the moments (perhaps) we want to be seen the most. These are the moments where a hey-the-way-you-exist-is-so-brave-and-marvelous   OR  I-wish-I could-be-like-THAT.

I send love letters to humans reconstructing their gender every day (in my head). Maybe I need to start sending them out into the world……..

 

To the human on the 4 train heading toward Brooklyn:
What I wanted to say to you was: I love how you swirl thirteen genders into your skin so deeply, so intrinsically that you are a rainbow of humans. You are a kaleidoscope of languages.
 
To the human I call pen pal:
I love that you label yourself: alive. You are not sewn into any particular pronoun. Rather, you are breathing. You are burning through thoughts and poems as though your brain is a marathon of adjectives. 

 

I dream of the day I walk outside and someone says to me: The way you wear your gender is magical. I see you as human. I see you as beautiful and handsome and all the adjectives in between. The way you tied that double windsor around your neck caused me to STOP and ask you how you did that. I think you’re really neat…….

I offer my consent to that!

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