poems by lisa b.

The one thing worse than chafing for days after an ignorant man has dissed me
or otherwise dismissed me due to my frequently feminine gender presentation
is that exact same situation when I’m hurt by another queer.
Someone who’s part of my community, who shares my oppression
in fact, I’m invested in their protection
because although they may be female-bodied they are much more masculine than I am
and so I totally understand that each day presents some degree of danger –
and I’m so sick of this.

Sick of explaining to unbelieving straights as well as gays in conversation and from the stage
that “The binary system falls short of many people’s realities,”
sick of remembering and respecting pronoun changes,
sick of trying to do my little bit to bend the edges of this repressive two-box system
to get more breathing room for you, and for me too
when so often, it seems, you choose to celebrate your hard-won second adolescence at a woman’s expense.

I don’t need you to hold the door for me, although I’ll thank you kindly when you do.
What I need is understanding that my gender is chosen
and every bit as complex
and deserving of respect, as your own.

And I know, it’s not as if there’s an abundance of positive male role models out there
from which to pick and choose.
But damn, don’t I wish that that could be a gift
my queer peers give to the dominant culture
along with turning assumptions about gender upside down, sideways and around,
the courage necessary to face down sexual shame and actually talk honestly about desire,
and a hundred and one fun safe and sexy uses for latex!


I don’t propose to try to deny anyone access to community.
I’m not about to present Lisa’s List of who’s worked on gender and sexuality
enough to join us here as thinking queers, but I would like to know:

What kind of responsibility rides with your expanded set of masculine privileges?
Who do you confine while you find new ground?
Has your girlfriend become a foil for your gender? (If so, bro, did she agree to that?)
…And do I hear you interrupting more often when wearing a binder? 


I’ve been talking about this for a long, long time. Someone less stubborn might be discouraged by now.

So, whether you’re masculine-identified for a night, or embarking on a new life with or without hormones and surgery,
please believe me –
genderfuck is so much more hot
when you pack some analysis along with that cock.

having bruised her hooves
scaling several tall buildings a day
on the sheer strength of her own denial,

having hidden her insecurity
by extending generous forgiveness
to anyone who ever hurt her,
in the hopes that if she eased their guilt
they’d like her enough to be kind to her,

having repeatedly strained
at unsustainable rates
in one hundred ways
until careening into an internal limit,
surprising herself
almost as much as everyone else
by how abruptly she

…stopped…

super goat decided to try for a little humility;
finally unflinchingly faced her overwhelming fear
of being unloved,
made the choice to grow up,
and declared herself to no longer be a super hero.

she cheerfully recommended to those who reacted
with dismay that they go fuck themselves,
and then

she tied up her cape between two trees
and stretched out happily in her new hammock

to sleep for a week.