DDF

It was Sunday morning,
I was walking out the La Salle stop on the blue line,
wearing green lipstick, a cat wing, black eye shadow, skirt,
It was the first time in a while where I felt the magic word, "pretty"!
Then someone looked at me and yelled "Disgusting Dirty Faguet".
The worst part was that everyone remained complicit within that stop.
No one wanted to protect me, it was as if my body was a vampire;
my reflection was for everyone's consumption, but my own.
Realizing that no matter what my friends think, the rest of the world will see me as disposable.

We have an epidemic of trans people of color being murdered.
Our bodies are deemed worthy of our own violence.
We have systematically and nicely colonized sexuality and gender to only desire the very few.
To tell us that our bodies are DDFs
To every queer and trans person of color,
Your life span is beyond the age of 25.
You deserve to see your own reflection, whatever that may be.

You see, this body is not for the consumption of others,
Women like me are queens, we turn more heads than a baby panda
we are the descendants of Marsha, Silvia, Audre, and every trans person of color who eradicates and causes chaos.
Our bodies are seen as inconvenient and extra, yet why the fuck would we do the bare minimum?

Most days this body feels like a fortress,
It is a maze to navigate and I can never understand it.
However, behind these closed doors that is repressed America, I am the person that everyone wants to sleep with, that is just a bonus!


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