TW: Child Abuse, Murder, Sexual Assault

The past few weeks of class have me officially fucked up. It isn’t the class material, our classmates, or even the assignments that have launched me into a rage spiral this time. Instead, it is the crushing reality of growing up, existing and trying to survive in a system that so clearly despises my/our “unruly” bodies. Not only does the system despise my body, but it seeks to control, own and exploit it without consideration. And then, when my worth is all used up, I am as disposable as the next piece of unwanted garbage. This undeniable reality is soul crushing as we argue, defend and protest against the brick wall of patriarchy and white supremacy. Meanwhile absurdity and debauchery abound, and we are force-fed a steady stream of systemic poison and lies.

Unfortunately, for myself and too many others, this is something I have always known and understood. And quite honestly, there have been more years than I would like to admit, where all I could do was internalize the bullshit, just to stay alive. And now, here we are. The United States of Pedophilia reigns supreme and family annihilators are justified and protected. A parade of blame and harassment follows Jane Doe, while the disgusting cowards that raped her seek privacy and understanding. Transgender individuals are vilified as sexual deviants, while yet another straight, white, cis man is arrested for child abuse. And just two months ago, news outlets quietly and unceremoniously announced the recovery of 163 missing children, and no one even noticed.

Today, my rage is ever present. It is caged in compliance and locked in survival. Because of this, I am trying something different for this blog post. I decided to use this assignment as a personal challenge and a small act of resistance. Letting creativity and curiosity lead, I found myself returning to and inspired by the writings of Susan Stryker and Roxane Gay. And so, as cringe as it may be, I wrote a poem in an effort to give a voice to my rage in a cage.

** For this blog post, I will be focusing on the perspective and experience of girls and/or femme presenting people. However, I also acknowledge, appreciate and hold space for the damage that is done to little boys and masc. presenting people as well. **

Childhood stories and fairytales do a lot more than just entertain us. They quietly build the blueprint and script for how we’re expected to act, look, and feel as we move through the “innocence” of childhood and into the vulgarity of adulthood. Children are depicted as “women” and portrayed in these fantastical stories as helpless, passive, and submissive objects for others, usually men, to enjoy.