Skip to content

Dysphoria-19

This poem is for all the trans folx who’ve had their health needs deemed ‘elective’ and their transitions delayed. DYSPHORIA-19 no my body my body is not yet my Body i’ve come so far but i’m still not my Body and now, now is later and slippery is soon and what if i die before i’m done being Born?

Read More →

South Dakota to Ban all Medical Care for Children Under 16

Building on the success of HB1057, a bill that criminalizes life-saving medical care to transgender children, conservative representatives of South Dakota were proud to announce a new and expanded version of the “Vulnerable Child Protection Act.” This expanded version will now prevent all children, trans and cisgender, from receiving any medical care whatsoever before they turn 16. “It wasn’t just […]

Read More →

A Bar on Turtle Island

A BAR ON TURTLE ISLAND Second Chances is nursing his third beer. He’s White, wears a worn baseball cap, is looking for work, always finds it here. After all, this is the bar where everyone knows your name. Presumed Innocence is with him. He’s a big guy, White under all that scruff, a total teddybear unless you get him angry. You can’t stay mad at him, though. This is the bar where everyone’s got your back. Like Freedom! There he is, doling out White-ass daps to everyone, Cis as pigskin, his arm wrapped around the White back of Inherited Wealth, hoping he’ll buy the next round. Oh, they’re all here! Assumed Authority is holding court with State’s Rights and Objectivity, their White grins flashing as darts fly by. Bullseye! Stand Your Ground’s hands are just too White to miss. This is the bar where Patriotism pours shots on White legs that don’t feel right since the war. The work is hard, but the regulars tip well. Working Class gives him a White nod as he hauls the trash into the kitchen where no one sees Tradition scrub dishes White as milk. She knows she’s loved, thinks of Right-to-Life tucked tight in his White bed, trusts the world is hard and good. Outside White Feminism pounds at the door, shouts about all the ways she’d run things better. Standing on rampless stairs, she won’t ever turn round, won’t ever find out […]

Read More →