Don’t Ask Me That (Fuck The Labels)

In this world we live in,

Despite the many labels,

Pink and blue stand firm as the colors of genders.

And yes, 

I know my fellow gay brothers and sisters and no genders would hate to admit it but even some of us fall into the box that is heteronormativity.

Most of us grew up in homes that spoke of man and woman. 

The woman does this. 

The man does that. 

And when they come together, 

The honey of hers mixes with the pecker of his

and makes a child. 

Growing up, I was the tomboy

That soon blossomed into young woman;

But even then I was still called boy.

My naked face and occasional dresses confused those who thought I was just too masculine.

This idea later showed its ugly head in my relationships.

Brought on by the idea that there is the man and the woman in a same sex relationship. 

I mean,

I just saw it as, “Well, since I’m more masculine, I’m the man;I’m the protector;I’m the provider.”

But I was none of that. 

I was the problem.

This obsession of upholding an idea of man and wife in a woman and woman relationship was idiotic.

Femininity, I felt, did not belong to me because I didn’t fit into the box of normal.

Masculinity, I saw as strength when really it was strain.

It was toxic.

It was stupid.

Femininity, masculinity neither I claim.

The only entity I claim is my own.

I am not the man. 

I am not a tomboy.

I will not be controlled by the archaic ideologies of heteronormativity. 

I will not be swallowed into the prison of labels.

I’m not a stud.

I’m not a stem.

I’m not a fem.

Butch, dyke, or whatever other nickname we give each other to feel normal.

Normal, 

I’ve never been that.

Labels ,

Not a fan of those anymore. 

You tack one on for me to understand but you never will.

It was never for understanding.

It was to make yourself comfortable 

and I’m not here to make you comfortable. 

So when you see me with my woman,

Don’t ask if I’m the man.