Judgement – Skirtingroundmylife

Judged

In this poem I share my thoughts on walking alone at night and the fears it can bring to mind for any woman let alone a transwoman of a certain age. I’ve given it the title Judged I believe it shows why no man should ever make judgements on anyone without knowing them. I hope you enjoy the read

Judged

On walking the midnight streets
I feel I’m being judged
by insignificant others
my mother always said
empty drums make the loudest noises
so why when voices
puncture the late night air
do I fear for my safety ?
panicking when random words and phrases
are aimed at women and girls
I know I walk faster when I hear wolfe whistles
which I know can’t be directed at me
nobody sees my fear
I disguise it with habits learned young
It is not my bum they talk of pinching
it is not my breasts
they devour with their eyes or constant gaze
I continue my journey
to safer spaces
though I am all too aware
on a different night
I could be the one
they prey on
under the blanket of stars
but the ones who would judge me
will see fit to deliver their verdict
not realising their wives and girlfriends
would be far more suited
to my kisses.

Fetish Nights

In this poem I travel back in time to the mid to late 1990’s when I was still very much in the closet and finding my feet in the LGBT scene. In those days being a trans woman was a very difficult shift you had to be a very discreet in the way you went about things and finding where you could be yourself wasn’t always easy. It was a challenging environment l to come out in but if there was one place I found acceptance it was in the underground music scene and in particular Fetish Nights. This was my safe space where nobody ever judged me where anything went as long as it wasn’t harming anyone. This poem is my tribute to those carefree nights and occasional days where I was given the chance to be me. I’ve titled it Fetish Nights I hope you enjoy the read.

Fetish Nights

It was once a month in the early years.
I crossed the lines of respectability.
If only my mother had known.
she could have saved me from myself
and my sinful desires.
the fires of hell consumed my soul
out of control. I knew
the names of my demons
lust and passion can and do
make slaves of us all.
when nature calls you realise
you have to do what you do
man or woman it made no difference to me
I decided to do what I’d do with whoever I pleased
and they weren’t the only ones doing the teasing
they were able to please me
when I was in the mood for pleasure
that’s what I loved about fetish nights
nobody judged you, nobody cared
who you were or what you wore

Sexism In The City

This poem came out of a conversation on feminism with the traditional musican Siobhan Wilson. During our chat I shared a story from my past to show that even as a transwoman I had experienced sexism. Well that story has now turned into a poem and at the suggestion of my friend Stacey McFarlane I’ve titled it Sexism In The City. I hope you enjoy the read.

Sexism In The City

It was the winter of 98
I had one foot out the closet door
just a few weeks before that night
I in my pre transitioned state
was refused entry
to a city centre nightclub
but this time things would be different
it was the run up to Christmas
and one of my pals
invited me out on a girls night
naturally I said yes
and all dolled up in a long bob
red sparkly dress , glossy tights, and knee length boots
I knew how good I looked
and how confident I felt
it was like butter wouldn’t melt
well what the hell it was the season to be jolly and glam
as I danced in the club to I am what I am
and I am woman hear me roar
I reflected how easily I walked through the door
as I passed the same guy
who a few weeks earlier had refused me admission
I began to see the world
in a very different light
and understand why
to some guys especially caveman types
the dress code actually matters
as would be patter merchants
leared at the length of our dresses
and I got my first taste
of sexism in the city.

Invisible Citizens

On a day the snow fell on the streets of Glasgow and Scotland this poem looks with contempt at the dehumanising benefits assessment process disabled people have to face from a Conservative government who want as many as possible to die quietly and without fuss in order for them to save money which they can hand out to their pals in the Bullingdon Billionaires club. During these difficult times it is important to remember that we shouldn’t be turning on each other but instead focus our anger and our energy on our real enemies who would deny Children the right to a decent meal so that any money they can save will be passed on to their pals. That said this poem focuses on disability issues and more importantly this dystopian pre Dickensian government would like to cull disabled people in the way other countries cull seals. I’ve given it the title Invisible Citizens , I hope you enjoy the read.

Invisible Citizens

This is the weather when I don’t go to church

this is season for sensible skirts

and for coats I struggle to button

it’s the time of year when I worry

if my boots which have Velcro fastenings

have enough grip to cope with the ice

I have difficulty viewing even in clear sight

never mind in the darkness of night

this is the time when I wish

those who sit in judgement of disabled people

despite knowing nothing of our lives

had to turn tricks whilst dancing on the thinnest of ice

only to fall through the cracks they created for others

and discover what life is really like

for those with hidden impairments

which go unseen and therefore in their eyes can’t really exist

for the ones they perceive to be invisible citizens

the disposables they want to disappear

faster than snow when the sun shines

Green Light

In this poem I share my thoughts on why it was important to me to go to a reclaim the night march to support an end to violence against women. I’ve given it the title Green Light which was suggested by my friend and stylist Stacey McFarlane. I hope you enjoy the read.

Green Light

In the chill of a cold November night
women reclaim our safe spaces
sending a message which says
we will not be bullied or cowed in to silence
violence against us must end now
there was power as we walked our city’s streets
and made them ours
we believed our collective voices mattered
we refused to accept anything less
than the rights all women should have
to dress as she likes
to go where she likes
without having to wonder what men say
or if they approve of our choices
we will raise our voices
to say what needs to be said
sex must come with consent
and it isn’t up for discussion
not at any time
there are lines you don’t cross
no matter how we’re dressed
we are not asking for it
we don’t want your advances
or cheesy chat up lines
we’ve heard a million times before
we’d sooner you ignored us
and walked on by
we’re not lying we dress not for you but for ourselves and our friends
we’re not Jezabels leading you into temptation
because of our fashion choices
and we will raise our voices
in anger to let you know
you need to wait for the green light
before you are given permission
to gain access to our lives and our worlds

Judgement Call

As it’s Sunday and I’m usually at church on Sunday mornings I thought I’d share this poem which relates to the passage in Matthew 7 where he said on judgement ‘judge least you be judged’ By stating this Matthew is reminding us to avoid judging others as only God can judge our actions and our attitudes. Set in the context of our times this is a timely reminder to us all not to stereotype groups or individuals based only on appearance and look beneath the surface to find out who the person is rather than assume what you think they’ll be like. I’ve given it the title Judgement Call, I hope you enjoy the read.

Judgement Call

Bright red lips
declare bold intentions
a fashion statement
provocative
enticing
inviting
the world to take a look
and challenge perceptions
she is not a bad girl
quite the reverse
if truth be told
her gold mini dress
may be daring
but don’t assume
her style means
she has nothing to offer
she may dress like madonna
but this girl is no wannabe
she will grace the stage
in whatever way she must
and trust her judgement
to find diamonds as she dances

Saved

I recently read a facebook article where the daughter of American evangelist Billy Graham claimed trans people were to blame for the 9/11 bombing of the twin towers in New York as they were guilty of turning away from God. Personally as both as transwoman and a Christian I find this suggestion to be deeply insulting and will say without hesitation that if being a transwoman gave me a superpower this would not be the one I would choose. Believe me I can think of much better powers than that, it’s just a shame we can’t say the same about her country’s current president. Honestly these comments would be laughable if they weren’t so potentially dangerous to the lives of those of us in the trans community. As you can probably tell these comments made me incandescent with a rage, and when a poet is raging they have to write a poem to explain why and this poem which I’ve given the title Saved, due her father’s belief in saving people for God is my response to her thoughtless and irresponsible remarks.

Saved

According to Billy Graham’s daughter

I and others like me am responsible for the slaughter

of 9/11 and the destruction of the twin towers

now pardon me but as a transwoman

If I was given superpowers

I can think of much better ones

than to destroy decent people

or create a massacre of human lives

this toxic interpretation of the word

borders on the absurd

as those of unsound minds

attempt to find demons

to blame for all the world’s problems

rather than trying to solve them

I think she and those like her need to give up

lecturing the rest of us on God

and labelling trans people as evil or deluded

they need to stop fantasising over which bathroom we use

this is not nor will it ever be earth shattering news

it is what it is hatred no mask can hide

the gospel of the narrow minded

who know nothing of tolerance

let alone inclusion and acceptance

yet demand respect from others

because they say they know what God commands

trust me when I say there is a difference

between knowing and understanding

as they brand God’s image

in their name

as a transwoman and a Christian

how do they explain me

would Billy Graham’s daughter

claim I was a she devil

because of my lipstick and lingerie.

what would she say about the fact

I attend church dressed in sensible skirts

would she claim I didn’t love my maker

or know the truth of the bible

just because she doesn’t want women like me to exist

she needs to take the blinkers off and stop resisting reality

unburdened she will began to see

the world in all its majesty

maybe she has never had an orgasm

or is unwilling to admit the power of sexuality

due to internalised repression

feelings of guilt she would never admit

she’s probably never experienced

dancing on the ceiling

or even on tables

yet she sees fit to label others

with her outdated conservative Christianity

which leads some to say that we have no relevance in this world

meanwhile young trans girls and older trans women

are perceived as being ill

needing cured from ourselves

we are we are told a danger to children

when there is no evidence to support

this socially constructed myth

which leads to fear, prejudice , and murder

but our deaths are just statistics

to our right wing Christian critics

as people like the daughter

of the world’s most famous evangelist

preech sermons on morality

whilst supporting the insanity

of a president who governs by tweet rather than policy

she is a pothole on the road to equality

her lack of compassion dishonours the name

she claims as her creator

and it seems to me

she is the one who needs to be saved from herself

The Gift

I write this poem from the heart as my personal thank you to a young girl in my local church for making me feel valued and included as part of the community. I won’t name names but trust me she knows who she is. I’ve given it the title The Gift I hope you enjoy the read.

The Gift

All eyes focused on the newcomer

judgement would be passed

on her outfit and therefore her suitability for the parish

a trans woman was not something

they were used to seeing in the pews

but this week’s news would soon become

just a fleeting moment in an ongoing drama

like an extra in a movie

she knew her role and was content to play it

the sidelines suited her style

until that first Christmas when a young girl’s smile

told her you have a place here

as part of the regular cast

and a gift wrapped in words

which didn’t need to be spoken

was a present no money could buy

The Promise Of Summer

As it’s now offically summer I thought I would post a poem on how being young and female can also lead to you being unfairly judged by society. The poem written in the summer of 2010 highlights the unfairness of judging people on stereotypical prejudices without ever making the effort to get to know those you are judging or making any attempt to understand the social and cultural circumstances which the teenage years can and do bring. Using a mirror to reflect on my own life, I hope have given some people a wee reminder of the old biblical passage judge least you be judged. I have called the poem The Promise Of Summer I hope you find it an enjoyable and challenging read.

The Promise Of Summer.

The promise of summer
tempts me in to shorter skirts
than a woman of my age
should be wearing
but not in to salads
memories of golden days
of schoolgirl games
and high school crushes
kissing boys behind the bushes
innocence of far off days
as my mind re-winds
taking me to places
not visited for years
far removed from concerns
and fears
of mortgages and household bills
so when I see teenage girls
in shorter skirts
than they should be wearing
I think
this is their time for fun
not caring
what others think or say
one day they’ll be my age
though for now let them be themselves
their cameras will re-wind soon enough
when their daughters enjoy
the promise of summer

Home Truths

This poem is honest to the point of brutality as it examines the way in which two groups of people face prejudice and discrimination in 21st Century Britain. Since I am both a transwoman and a disabled person I feel qualified to write a poem which compares and contrasts my experiences as someone with both identities and why whilst being equally proud of them I would always identify as a transwoman if I had to make a choice. I’ve given it the title Home Truths I hope you enjoy what I think will be a thought provoking and potentially challenging read.

Home Truths

Being a transwoman who is also disabled
if austerity meant I had to be labelled
as one or other
I would always choose to be trans
well no trans person has been told
they can’t get into a nightclub
or called a fire hazzard
but this has happened to disabled people
I’ve even heard liberal minded types say
they should have their own clubs
stick to their own nights
God almighty have these people never heard of apartheid?
yes I know it was about race
but primarily it was about putting people in their place
this is social exclusion by any other name
it is our shame we allow this unspoken prejudice to exist
but in this world some people will always be other
remaining outside the desirable venues
this was the life I had before transitioning
to the woman I always knew I was
this act which some perceived as a risk
has been the best thing I ever did
so if some of the narrow minded are more concerned
about who I kiss than what I cost
they have lost the debate
both transwomen and disabled people
are easy targets to hate
but it seems the less intellectually gifted
can only despise one group at a time
they are confused by my foot in both camps
my balance condition and stomach cramps
are not a problem to solve
though the type of prejudice I get
is different to what it was
no more patronising pity
now it’s sexism with not so witty remarks
about my breasts or my bum
from muts who look like they’ve been fed pedigree chum
by mums who never loved them
they say we get what we deserve
but no parents deserved that fate
being trans gets you a different kind of hate
than it does if your disabled
your not as openly mocked or labelled
it’s a bit more snide
maybe pride marches have helped to some extent
but the LGBT community has its share of transphobic attitutes
whereas disabled people
are pitied with patronising plattitudes
due to an assumption
they can do nothing for themselves
and are always dependent on others transwomen are more feared than disabled people
and some are more turned on by us than they will ever say
the less enlightened confuse trans identity with being gay
since transitioning I may get the odd remark
but hand on heart
I’ve never been called scrounger
or told I’m a benefit cheat
our detractors know we can buy our own treats
and that nice new lippy or the skirt I wore to church
came from my wages
I’m not seen as a safety risk or burden on the state
for that at least I am grateful
which is why I will always say
I’m a transwoman rather than disabled
as though both groups are labelled
one is an easier target for intimidation and abuse
there are some home truths we are still needing to fight
or our silence will prove that in the battle for equality
Orwell is still as right as he was in animal farm
when he said some are more equal than others
and the truth of his words should mean we campaign
till the day when his most quoted statement
fades in to the distance of history