Rainbows, Gender, Sex, and Good Doctors


Composed 28/05/2012, and posted today after much iteration, in honour of Dr. Martin Luther Kings birthday. May he be remembered forever, by a world that so desperately needs more people like him within it.

It’s that time of year again here in San Francisco, when the rainbow flags are strung up all over the city, and people begin planning for the Pride Parade just a few short weeks away. I’ve always been fond of this time, and not just because it’s the biggest party I know of on the entire west coast and happens to occur well within my reach. No, I’m fond of this time because it’s a great show of what can happen when people are willing to not only accept other people who are different than themselves, but support them for the simple sake of that very distinction. But I used to also wonder something. Specifically, I used to wonder just how it is people like me, who suffer from Gender Dysphoria, ended up such an integral part of this movement as to end up one of the first four letters.

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21/12/12


Insidious exceptions, like cancerous tendrils, seep and propagate,
conspiratorially towards the next compile.

Each new extension I mint, no matter how I massage the syntax,
has some new error, some new vertex sized wound.

No matter my cleanliness in iteration,
despite the supposed godliness of my debugger.

Maya, you shifty, ponderous beast,
Why, oh why, do you so love to corrupt my scene files?

Castro


I have a home,

There are many like it, but this one is mine,

Lovingly tended to make sure the facade is fine,

But sometimes I pass by the Castro,

And I walk past other homes, row upon row,

Their facades are weird, their loving care applied inside,

Compared to mine, where the facade covers what I hide,

Are they brave? Am I wise?

Sometimes I went to war with myself, staring in the mirror as I shout,

But I don’t any more, I decided it was time to turn my home inside, out.