Problems – Skirtingroundmylife

The Way Of The World

In this poem I explain why as a geography and politics graduate it is my view that feminism has to be internationalist to be truly successful in tackling the problems faced by women and girls. Even now though we live in a society which is more global in scope than it’s ever been, it is nonetheless a society and a world where the patriarchy still dominate the places where the real decisions are made. I’ve given it the title The Way Of The World I hope you enjoy the read.

The Way Of The World

As a geography graduate
I understand
we are all connected
no country operates in isolation
we work together
for the good of all citizens
we know the problems faced
by women and girls in other lands
and in our own
poverty and injustice
will visit women and children first
as men will drive agendas
to suit the suits
in boardrooms of all nations
we’re told it’s the way of the world
it’s the way it’s always been
the way it always will be
until we say no more
and by our actions show
our place is not in the margins
to be dismissed by those whose networks
take no account of our needs
yet claim to make all inclusive choices
we are women
we have voices
and we won’t be afraid to use them

Valuable

This poem looks at the issue of Vulnerability by examining how people are stereotyped by the perceptions of others and is my response to a well respected friend who probably because of the job they work in said that I could be classified as a vulnerable adult. Somehow I think they are way off the mark and this poem explains why. I’ve given it the title Valuable I hope you enjoy the read.

Valuable

Vulnerable
perceived as different
outside the social norm
this is a picture of me
painted by a friend
who said this is how I am
because I’m trans and below average height
I told them this isn’t right
my height is defined by my genes
and since both my parents smoked
they stunted my physical growth
thankfully my intellectual capacity remained unharmed
and the fact I’m a transwoman
does not make me vulnerable
valuable maybe
but I won’t change who I am
to suit a stiff society whose pseudo sobriety
moulds them in uptight sterility
excluding me from polite conversations
they lack the ability to hold
I care not if it makes them feel awkward
the Scotland they inhabit
needs to see me as different
resistant to change
they still apply the medical model
to those they other
seeing the person as the problem
rather than looking for solutions
and changing small things
like attitudes
me I don’t do plattitudes
I refuse to be stereotyped
wanting rights rather than metaphorical medals
for bravery I don’t possess
I claim my right to be myself
look after my emotional health
give snarky answers to chancers
which would make a docker blush
I am not vulnerable it is not who I am
being trans will not silence me
on the contrary it will empower me
to speak my mind and sometimes
those who wish to label me may not like
the uncomfortable truth I impart
trust me I speak from the heart
I am not vulnerable I am valuable
and I won’t wear any labels
which design me as different
but as for individual, I think I can cope with that.

Tarred And Feathered

In this poem I highlight the problem of transphobia as the press and media give platforms to those who want to tar and feather us without giving us any right of reply. This unequal treatment is not only wrong it is actually a very dangerous road to take in a so-called democracy and as a transwoman I will fight this ill informed bigotry with everything I have in me. I’ve given it the title Tarred And Feathered which I think reflects the sickening and often slanderous bile these people spew in the name of privilege. I hope you enjoy the read.

Tarred And Feathered

It seems acceptable
that certain people complain
about the sunshine and rain
not arriving or departing at a time
to suit their needs
my heart bleeds at this injustice
on second thoughts it actually doesn’t
these are the shouty types
who wish to exclude women like from society
claiming my reality isn’t real
and that by sharing a bathroom or changing facilities
trans women represent
are a threat to their dignity
and a danger to women and girls
claiming to be gender critical
they wear the mask of critique
whilst demanding trans exclusion
proclaiming we are the problem
and they are the solution to that
as the cracks in their argument appear
the mask is slipping their true colours show
equality is the last thing they want
this small but vocal minority
do not respect the opinions of other women
at least not the women I know
being trans is real we don’t do it for show
as some would like to claim
the gender critical attempt to tar and feather us
blame us for the sins of a few
yet all we want to do is be ourselves
they label a trans woman as a man in a dress
not caring about our mental health
and the impact it could have our lives
as long as they can satisfy their right on credentials
as the ultras of the feminist movement
I won’t deny them the right to speak
as they would do to me
I believe in the right to free speech
but I know how to use it wisely
to educate and explain why
I need to be who I am
and why I won’t be lectured
by those who want my erasure

Outsiders

As a transwoman myself, you will not be surprised to learn that I have always supported the idea of LGBT inclusive education in our schools. However it may shock you to know that I don’t think it should be confined to schools and the one of the first places it should be promoted is within the LGBT community itself. I say this due to the fact that I have had more experiences of transphobia from certain gay men and lesbians than I’ve ever had at Celtic Park or from anyone in the football community outside of a few right wing unionist bigots during the independence referendum. Indeed I have always believed that the trans community and transwomen in particular are viewed as outsiders in certain parts of the rainbow in the same way that the outsider is often the part of the loaf of bread to be eaten and it is with this in mind I have given it the title Outsiders I hope you enjoy the read.

Outsiders

In rainbow spaces
transwoman are often viewed
as outsiders
as carefully crafted communities
lock the doors to our entry
we are perceived by some
as the enemy within
kept at a distance
by those who should know better
agendas are hidden as sugar coated tolerance
is accepted as the mask of inclusion
until it eventually slips
and quips are screamed out
using dead names and innappropite pronouns
in attacks that snakes would be proud of
by those who confuse gender identity
with drag or crossdressing
of course it’s a vocal minority
who cause this grief
but you had better believe
I’ve had more attitude at pride
than I have at Celtic park
or in bars after games
the stereotype that we are somehow all the same
is a myth I won’t be blamed for
we will not accept responsibility
for problems not of our making
inclusive education is a must
even within our community
if we are to create a climate
where all are included and outsiders
are something to be served only with soup

Facemask

On this day 10 years ago I made the decision to finally face the future and start living permanently as a woman. This was a decision which changed my life irreversibly for the better as I felt I could finally show the world who I really am rather than hide behind a mask of social pretence in the name of keeping up appearances. It is for this reason I’ve given it the title Facemask. I hope you enjoy the read.

Picture. I pose for a picture at the Scottish Poetry Library this summer which shows me happy and contentedand its far cry from the pre transition days when I wouldn’t be seen anywhere near a camera.

Facemask

There comes a time
when standing still
is no longer an option
a time when we have to take risks
make the big decisions
no matter how difficult or challenging
even if others find them embarrassing
colleges , friends, family,
our gender identity or our sexuality
is our business.
we are only coming out because we must
conformity is a path afforded to others
many of whom have secrets
only the darkness will see
I speak my truth and say
I used to always place my needs
second to the feelings of others
conditioned to think that being discovered in a dress
would lead me to be shamed,
blamed, for not being what my elders thought I should.
now I realise my mistakes
I faked interests like some women fake orgasms
you know to keep others happy
whilst locking my feelings behind closed doors.
a problem ignored is not a problem halved
it’s a problem doubled
it could leave you with troubles
which never go away
till you reach a place of contentment
win the war against selfish resentment
admit to yourself you are happy
before gradually evolving to show your true self
your emotional health better than ever before
no longer haunted by secrets and lies
you abandon the camouflage of disguise
a woman now, you no longer need a facemask

Living A Lie

In this poem I look at the later half of my teenage years and recall a difficult journey as I started questioning who I was and who I wanted to be. Knowing I wanted to be female at a time when that wasn’t allowed meant I had to keep my real identity secret as I didn’t want to get bullied or even worse beaten up by some boys who would have viewed me a threat to the masculinity they were told they had to wear as a badge of honour. This was not an easy poem to write but I’m really glad I’ve written it. I’ve given it the poem Living A Lie I hope you enjoy the read.

Living A Lie

Looking back through memories frozen in time

I realise how much I’ve been through

school was hard when there were secrets to keep

and in the Scotland I grew up in

there things I had to keep hidden

for fear of peers labelling me queer

or using other terms of abuse

to hurt me and others like me

I knew boys excited me in ways no girl ever could

I cared more about what they were wearing

I shared secrets with them

about the kind of stuff

no boy would ever be told

in colder days I kept quiet

though often dismissed I knew my feelings were real

though for the most part I stayed silent

the implied threats of violence

was not something I wanted to test

sexuality and gender were seldom if ever discussed

in case boys laughed or girls blushed

who knows how many dreams were crushed

by the macho culture of the times

in the 1970’s though legal in England and Wales

being LGBT was still a criminal offence up here

this made no sense yet some of my mum’s friends

called it an English disease

despite the fact they would crawl on their knees

to save their queen and their union

they accepted things as they were

rather than look for solutions

to problems they would sooner ignore

or leave at someone else’s door

until it came to their own

and it was their son and daughter

who decided to come out

no wonder certain issues

were never talked about at school

as a culture of bullying was tolerated

and those were different knew why

living a lie was easier

than telling a truth that would cost you friends

and make sure you never got the chance

to dance at Christmas disco’s

as a kiss under the misseltoe

remained a distant dream

to be enjoyed only by others

Blood And Coffee

Living with a friend who self harms is not an easy shift, as, if your in any way like me, you will be constantly concerned for both their physical safety and emotional well being. In this poem which I’ve titled Blood And Coffee I explain the challenges I face in this situation and the powerlessness I feel as I try my best to deal with them and support my friend to the best of my ability. I hope you enjoy the read.

Blood And Coffee

In the early hours of what should be a peaceful Sunday morning

I am on my knees cleaning our laminated flooring

unable to ignore a problem that won’t go away

self medicating with alcohol

my friend slashes herself

bruising her arms and my heart

as she fights she ongoing battles

of which I have no knowledge

no college class or university degree

can explain the reasons why she hurts so deeply

or I have to mop up blood and coffee stains

just after midnight brings in a new day

though the night sky is as black as the dog

which can never be trained

wild and untamed it roams the places too dark to explore

drinking to forget, she attempts to roar

though her own inner voice mutes her sound like a T.V. remote control

a lost soul she cries to block thoughts of a painful past

a time she is reluctant to speak of

in case it triggers memories which make her scream

with each breaking dawn

she will face the same familiar struggles

which have troubled her for decades

exhausted by this never ending nightmare

she sobs unrestained in to the void

and I weep unseen tears

for someone who sees darkness as her comforter

eventually sleep grants her rest

from the curse of an active mind

and finally ghosts fade from view

not haunting her again until the sunrise

when she will show me her arms

and ask they how they ended up in this mess

as I dress for church I know only that I am thankful

the map of damage created by her monsoon of the mind

bypassed a vein more by luck than navigation