You fumble and drop sentences, your leg trembles and beats a staccato rhythm on the pavement while she patiently hears out your half-complete, constantly backtracking stories, nods and keeps brushing her hair back.
Intersex people spend a lot of their lives doing this emotional labor for others because they are inherently responsible to be born an error.
Artwork by acrylicelephant
I hate that I wallow
That I bury my face into my hands
Slam the door behind me
And cry all day
I hate that my diary …
she's a habit. an 8 am class that I take, a 5 pm phone call that I make, my best/worst muse.
This is a story of a girl who falls in love with an ethereal being who literally tears out her heart.
This question took me back all those years ago and I vividly saw her pushing some kid out of the way to crouch down in front of the place he was about to step on.
When I joined the course, I was excited to share my experiences with the class. But with time I realised not everyone was interested. Most of them didn't interact with me, asked questions, or exchange their experiences.
Hindi Poem by Shubhshree Mathur.
If I wasn’t feeling like shit because I was turned on by girls (one girl in particular), I’m sure I would have found something else to hate myself for. I was young, female, loud, and had a body. Society does this to you. It moulds you till you are all soft woundable spots, and then it makes you kick yourself.
I tried to remember if the booth on screen is the same booth that I and my partner usually go and get a security check from. I couldn’t recognise it. I stopped thinking and concentrated on the film.
I want to tell him how I feel,
How I struggle to sleep,
That fear of the two letter word,
Makes me weep,
He is The Only One.
how do you know it's girls?
i wonder as my friend comes out to me
how do you know the limit of your love?
and somehow, weird quizzes dragged me all over the internet
Meera made a friend in the glass case she suffocated in for 25 years.
The luminous room was welcoming,
A place where he was transformed,
Like a phoenix rising from the ashes,
This is where his life reformed.
Being the only child was hard for me. Throughout the years, I kept to myself and accepted myself and still felt like I was the only South Asian Muslim in this world.
People putting up the pride flag outside Sambhaji Park where we were to assemble for the pride, community friends hugging each other, I just felt like I was among my people.
An abnormality he thought,
And then with himself he fought.
He thought of himself as foul,
So god's help he sought.
In some places it rains a bit during the rainy seasons. In some places it rains more, and one cannot see a long way ahead. On some days in Ulaua it rains so hard that one can barely see a few feet ahead - in these seasons, the Ulaua river is always in spate.
I stand still looking down at your hand holding the knife,
My body is trembling with fear but you want me to pay you with my life.
The spectators want me to plead for forgiveness in this time,
So forgive me, for I didn't know love was a crime.
A piece of adhesive
Of the colour red.
The scream of a woman -
“Chakka hai ki ladki?”
Her spectacled eyes
Upon my bindi.