by AJ
I wish my gender didn’t dictate who I was, that they knew “AJ.”
I wish they knew my name, “AJ.”
When they use “his” name, it hurts like a punch to the gut.
When people call me my name, I smile as they call me, “AJ.”
“Would you like you read, AJ?” Butterflies swirl.
A smile brandishes my face hearing the name “AJ.”
With eyes closed, I have to say to those who won’t accept me. “It doesn’t work.” “I hate that name.” They don’t like “AJ.”
I’m ready.
I don’t care anymore.
This is who I am, you should never try to change that.
AJ is what I’ve decided, it’s who I am.
I don’t want “him” to come back, here and queer. It’s “AJ.” Breathless. Silent.
No longer.
I won’t stick to the binary. You can’t make it that way. I won’t listen.
AJ is loud and proud.
SUBMIT YOUR WORK
