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When we speak of America’s “good ol’ days,” to what (and for whom) do we refer? In our steady trek away from a bleak history of discrimination as the static norm, the flinging-off of oppressive stigmas like those attached to the LGBTQ community are worth celebrating. This week’s feature is a testament to the beauty of diversity on a broadening gender spectrum, with unapologetic poet Rose Lord of Charlotte sharing their understanding of their own queer identity as fluid, colorful, and limitless.
Gender
By Rose Lord, 14, of Charlotte
My gender feels like a river.
Fluid and unpredictable,
it carries me
through whirling rapids
that seethe with indecision,
through contemplative canyons
echoing with my own thoughts.
Sometimes the water rises,
surging toward something new.
But I do not drown.
Terrified and joyous,
wary and curious,
I rise with it,
steady on my raft of identity.
Other times, my gender is a tree –
comfortingly unmoving,
yet always changing in small ways,
reaching new branches into the sky
and flowering a different color each year.
It’s a truth rooted so deeply within me
that not even the strongest winds
can tear it down.
And when I climb this tree
and reach the top,
I am always surprised –
because as intricate and diverse
as my identity feels,
the sheer number of things I am
is always outdone
by the landscape below me,
showing me who I could be.
An endless view of possibilities
is lit by the blazing sun of hope
and the quiet moon of determination.
