greygirlbeast: (white2)
[personal profile] greygirlbeast
Sometimes, someone says something that's just so absolutely fucking true, you pass it along. So pay the fuck attention (and thanks to Spooky for bringing this to my attention, courtesy [ profile] coilhouse). For the record, this is me giving a shit:

"How to Make Love to a Trans Person"

Forget the images you’ve learned to attach
To words like cock and clit,
Chest and breasts.
Break those words open
Like a paramedic cracking ribs
To pump blood through a failing heart.
Push your hands inside.
Get them messy.
Scratch new definitions on the bones.

Get rid of the old words altogether.
Make up new words.
Call it a click or a ditto.
Call it the sound he makes
When you brush your hand against it through his jeans,
When you can hear his heart knocking on the back of his teeth
And every cell in his body is breathing.
Make the arch of her back a language
Name the hollows of each of her vertebrae
When they catch pools of sweat
Like rainwater in a row of paper cups
Align your teeth with this alphabet of her spine
So every word is weighted with the salt of her.

When you peel layers of clothing from his skin
Do not act as though you are changing dressings on a trauma patient
Even though it’s highly likely that you are.
Do not ask if she’s “had the surgery.”
Do not tell him that the needlepoint bruises on his thighs look like they hurt
If you are being offered a body
That has already been laid upon an altar of surgical steel
A sacrifice to whatever gods govern bodies
That come with some assembly required
Whatever you do,
Do not say that the carefully sculpted landscape
Bordered by rocky ridges of scar tissue
Looks almost natural.

If she offers you breastbone
Aching to carve soft fruit from its branches
Though there may be more tissue in the lining of her bra
Than the flesh that rises to meet it,
Let her ripen in your hands.
Imagine if she’d lost those swells to cancer,
A car accident instead of an accident of genetics
Would you think of her as less a woman then?
Then think of her as no less one now.

If he offers you a thumb-sized sprout of muscle
Reaching toward you when you kiss him
Like it wants to go deep enough inside you
To scratch his name on the bottom of your heart
Hold it as if it can-
In your hand, in your mouth
Inside the nest of your pelvic bones.
Though his skin may hardly do more than brush yours,
You will feel him deeper than you think.

Realize that bodies are only a fraction of who we are
They’re just oddly-shaped vessels for hearts
And honestly, they can barely contain us
We strain at their seams with every breath we take
We are all pulse and sweat,
Tissue and nerve ending
We are programmed to grope and fumble until we get it right.
Bodies have been learning each other forever.
It’s what bodies do.
They are grab bags of parts
And half the fun is figuring out
All the different ways we can fit them together;
All the different uses for hipbones and hands,
Tongues and teeth;
All the ways to car-crash our bodies beautiful.
But we could never forget how to use our hearts
Even if we tried.
That’s the important part.
Don’t worry about the bodies.
They’ve got this.

-- Gabe Moses

Date: 2011-03-27 07:59 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
THANK YOU for passing that on.

Date: 2011-03-27 09:01 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
That's beautiful & oh, so true...

Date: 2011-03-27 01:08 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
This is really beautiful.

Date: 2011-03-27 02:21 pm (UTC)
sovay: (Default)
From: [personal profile] sovay
Thank you. That is beautiful.

Date: 2011-03-27 03:06 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Oh, that is beautiful.

Date: 2011-03-27 03:20 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Beautiful. Thank you for sharing.

Date: 2011-03-27 03:35 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
This made me tear up. Lovely.

Date: 2011-03-27 04:13 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]

I haven't really had the Talk with anyone in a long time, but I've promised myself that, if the topic of sexuality comes up, I'll make a point of explaining to the confused that these things we're so protective and reactionary about, these bodies we're born into, are just machines. Lovely, cuddly machines, but machines, nonetheless, and they say no more about us than the uniforms we wear when we go to work in the doughnut shop. Lame, overstated old maxim that it is, the truth is still that It's Whats Inside That Counts. The genetic lottery does little more than overcomplicate our development into the beings we need to be to cope with this existence.

I'm thinking there's a great bit of sci-fi I've got in me that involves a society that has the ability to change body parts and job skills with relative ease. There's got to be a great story in there. And as with most of my work, there's a strange little love story that grows from those circumstances, as well.

Date: 2011-03-27 04:38 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Wow. Thank you for passing this along. I intend to share it.

Inhibitions murder a fulfilling life.

Date: 2011-03-27 04:55 pm (UTC)
ext_18153: (Default)
From: [identity profile]
Thank you for posting this. :) I know I'll be sharing it far and wide.

Date: 2011-03-27 07:36 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]

Date: 2011-03-27 10:02 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] caitlin s (from
Aches of truth. Very beautiful poem. It is destined to be read and felt by many.

Date: 2011-03-28 01:20 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
That is a magnificent poem, and it speaks to anyone who has ever been insecure about any part of his or her body (read: everyone). Thank you for posting it.

Date: 2011-03-28 07:21 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Oh my gods, that poem is gorgeous. Thank you so much for bringing it to us.


greygirlbeast: (Default)
Caitlín R. Kiernan

February 2012

    1 234
56 7 891011

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 25th, 2017 12:48 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios