The Plea, a poem

I am a transsexual.
I am not dirty.

I am not aberrant.
I am not a pervert.
I am not out to corrupt your children/husband/wife.
I am a woman in a man’s body.
I have a birth defect.

I am tired of losing my girlfriends
     I am tired of being treated
     like a man, simply because I have an extra
     body part, like a Child of Thalidomide.
I am tired of having to suppress my emotions
     because that is what everyone expects me to do
     simply because I grow hair on my face.
I am tired of having to wear clothes that I
     feel were made for aliens.
I am tired of being told to “grow a pair”.
     I have a pair of balls. That’s the problem.
I am tired of having to fight for the same treatment
     that other people take for granted, like
     jobs that don’t ostracize me.
I am tired of being treated like a mental case.
     My feelings are real, they are not fantasies.
I am tired of being told that this is a choice.
     Is your skin color a personal choice? Or
     is it something you were born with?

I’m not so different from you.
I have blood.
I have feelings.
I have wishes.
I love, I hurt.
To quote; “If you prick us, do we not bleed?”
Why is it that my outward appearance defines who I am?

Isn’t it time society stops looking at the package
     and looks at the soul instead?
So many of the world’s problems would be solved
     if people learned to react to the present
     and not to the wrapping paper.

Granting me the right to be who I was born to be
     Is not going to lead to children having sex
It will not lead to dogs and people marrying and reproducing.
It will not mean that suddenly society will fall apart.
After all, this has happened in other countries
     and all they lost was their dependence on
     a cruel god.
     The god of greed and ignorance.

Tell me, what is your objection?

I mean, after all, I’m going from the privileged group
     of young and male
To the underclass of a Transsexual female.

Tell me, who in their right mind chooses to do that
     on a whim, simply because they can.

This is a one-way trip. Very few people who have made this
     change over have come back.
This is a choice that affects every part of my life.
It is one that YOU and your rules have made
     me think about for over a year
     with a “professional” to help me.
I have talked to specialists,
I have been on drugs.
I have had every part of my psyche poked and prodded.
I have dreamed,
I have fantasized,
I have thought and planned.
I have had to save over three years of my salary to do this one thing.
Getting myself straight costs more than most people spend on cars.
More than people spend on a college education.
This is not a small step I am taking.

So why is it that you feel a need to make my journey even harder?

Don’t I deserve love?
Don’t I deserve to be treated like the person I am?
Don’t I get to have the “happily ever after” that we are promised
     as children, if we work hard, if we behave?
Haven’t I worked hard enough yet?

Tell me, mister bigot.
When do I get to be happy?
When can I be loved?
When do I get my life, the one I’ve worked so hard for?

Have you ever worked this hard for something in your LIFE?

Probably not.

My sex, my sexuality, my sexual preference, my life
     are none of your goddamn business.
I am not forcing you to be anything other than who you are.
Why in the world can’t you allow me the same right?

I love you. I wish for you to be happy.
But I am tired of sacrificing my happiness
     for yours simply because you can’t handle my medical castration.
Your dick and balls are safe. I don’t want them, I don’t want to change them.
Hell, you can have mine.

I’m getting a lop-it-offa-me.
I’ll have them wrap the excess up in a jar, and send them to you.
That way you can make fun of me every time you see it,
     if that will make you happy.
Just stop trying to tell me who and how I can love others.
Stop making my decisions for me.

Let me live as myself, how I want to be.
Let me live how I am.