SPEAK OUT
Young trans-people - have your say.
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Mirrors
By Aoife
Age 16
Each time I look into a mirror,
I see a face look back at me.
Sometimes it's the face of a girl,
And sometimes it's a boy.
Each face shows its sadness,
Each one shows its pain.
Both of them have their sorrow,
But one has room for Joy.
I know some day that I must choose a face,
And live with it forever more.
But which one can joy live in?
Which one can I scorn?.
The Little Mermaid
By a Mermaids member.
Age 7
Personal Account
By a Former Mermaids Member
Now in their 20's
How's about starting a normal life?
But won't starting in the middle always be difficult?
But I suppose I never thought life would be so, well - tricky!
What happens when the only thought that occupies your mind is
"I WANT TO BE NORMAL!"
and suddenly you realise that's the only thing you'll NEVER be.
Of course you have friends offering to help.
But when they will never truly understand, what's the point?
As soon as you get close to normality somebody moves the barriers.
Sometimes I try to convince myself that I am normal,
it's just the ones who don't understand or don't try to,
who aren't normal.
Somehow, I never can truly convince myself enough.
But when I ask for help what happens?
Nothing.
Exactly.
Perhaps I'm being selfish, stubborn, paranoid,
or one of the thousand other things I've been called.
Why does it all have to be so f****** hard?
Cruelty
By a Mermaids member.
Age 7
I bring my favourite stuff to school
But other kids can be so cruel
They laugh and point and say "Oooh"
And I just don't know what to do.
I bring Barbie to school
But they lie
and when I go they don't say "Bye".
The Family Tree
By a Mermaids member.
Age 7
Above picture is the cover of a new book published by Mermaids - A collection of writings and illustrations by young people with gender identity Issues.
Contact for further details.
WHEN IS IT MY TURN ?
By Ariel-Michelle
As I sit in a room of peace, I feel strangely out of place.
As I watch the people talk, I wonder what expression is on their face.
Are they really content? Are they sad?
Are their lives good? Do they feel sad?
If you read between the lines they say you can see whats being said beneath.
If you could see between my lines would you see the longing for some of
that peace?
Do you see your soul trapped for the whole of your life?
Do you feel bad because it always upsets your wife?
Peace is a rare thing in this world, enjoy it while you can.
For when you feel trapped, it feels like no one would give a damn.
Wars rage across the globe, mabe soon, the wars and pain will be gone.
Sometimes the battle to free the soul is lost but the war still rages on
To be myself whatever I may be is a small request I need to ask.
Why does it seem to me, to be an impossible task?
I feel like an actress, playing the part of a man.
I want to be the girl inside that I know I am.
Living a lie for my whole life is a pain that sears and burns.
So I ask you this: When is it my turn?
Sea Views
By DJ Kingsbury
I stare out into the sea
Wishing I'll be able to shine
as me.
Though the outcome of who I am
Mixed with the nature
Of the cruelty of this
world,
I just don't want to exist any more.
So I stare out into the sea
Wishing to reel in a part of me.
Only to fall out of it again.
A New Dawn
By Emily
Suns burn out my eyes
Moons soothe my aching
heart-
Reaching towards my soul
Drowning in this
preconcieved mask
Change will this withering
mirage.
This body is what I seek
to transcend
Numb to the rules that
segregate and obliterate
my blossoming heart!
I can only ever be me
which makes me pure
No law or ignorance can tie me down
I-rising from the ashes through the only eyes I can ever see from...
To greet
A new, and wonderful day.
Life and Death
By Emily
It is not the moment of death
But what you do with life you were given-
Not a slave to this body
Or the ornaments that I adore
A whore to my emotions
It is not a boy or man I wish to destroy or kill
Just to let this women
Spread her wings
.........and breathe!
Transition
By Tobi
I was lost inside and indistinct
Kept caged and locked for security
From words and mouths and what people think
And even my own insanity
I am on the verge and inbetween
On the brink of pleasant fantasies
I am opened out ready to be seen
Holding the key to my sanities
I am cleansed, sure, soft, and free
I am a gentle, kind, memory
Of what I am,will, and used to be
And finally
I am me
To a Girl
By Riff
Age 19
Staring through a window
Gazing at your face
Comparing all its contours with my own
Wondering if you're happy
If you've ever felt
Confused, rejected, cast away, alone
Looking deep into your eyes
Searching for the soul
And wondering what things you hide away
If those eyes have ever drowned
In waves of warm despair
Or opened on a smoky, blacked-out day
These eyes that burn with passion
Or freeze in ice-rimmed pain
Which the world, in you, will never stir
Watch you from a distance
Close, yet far away
And hating you because you never were.
I Am
By Jessica
How dare you try to define me? I am more than a sum total of your
categories.
You say I'm gay, or a freak. You can't know that. What's more, it is none
of
your business.
Do not worry over what I am. Know that I am. I am a human being, just
like
anyone else.
I am not in some kind of 'alternative lifestyle'. I am not a freak.
I am just myself.
When being yourself has a price
By Sophie
Age 15
Who am I?
I'm not who you see.
I'm different inside, real inside.
There lies the real me.
It's the outside that's wrong.
Something so basic, so simple,
And it's wrong.
As a child, I acted as my real self.
But then the bullying started.
That's when I told myself I was wrong.
I am a girl on the outside,
But not on the inside.
I had to lie.
I have to lie.
The prices make me wonder,
Will I always be a pathetic figment?
Will I ever be allowed to be me?
There's the issue of losing money,
Losing friends,
Losing family,
And it's not even my fault.
Sometimes I wonder why.
Why was I born a lie?
I'm a Girl, He's a Guy
by Elly McCormack
I'm a girl, he's a guy
What can't you 'get' or be dealing with?
Don't stare at him or me like you can feel our frustration
Don't start asking how and wondering why
You're pointing to the sky firing a search to the critics to where I am
When I'm not yet the doctor's patient
It's hard to hide
I swerve and sway, extending my presence about the places I see around
If I may
I'm not such a bad person if you bother to tell
But know one believes me when I spell out my name
Just a figment of my own personal pain
Just a lie you spell out clear
Just a phase you'll pass my dear
I couldn't help to slouch around, staring at the plaster on the ceiling
That has me bound.
I've never liked drag and I f*cking hate Madonna
So back of with your cliché's of what I can offer
I couldn't help but wonder why
You can't accept the colour on my nails
He's a guy, can't you tell?
It's not a figment of his own special brand of hell
It's his turmoil you inflame, the spite and hate you throw his way, a heavy
object to his complexion. Just a knife to help him with keeping his
attention.
It's his screaming inside his head that burns the picture in his mind, and
on the reflection of the mirror beside his lovely pink bed.
I'd like to push you off a cliff, and tell you the reasons before you land.
I just couldn't feel, not a little p*ssed
When I heard you make him cry
He moves aside and has a moment to feel
The bloody shocked eyes, and the gripping of his hair.
Don't you understand it's his life that he needs, not a cage that he lives
in not the suffering you like to bury him further in.
You make me sick and terribly tired, when will you just roll of rooftops and
die?
When I realise it's just another person trying to live out his life. Can't
you fill up on parecetamol and pay the paramedics an adrenaline good time?
But you feel the need to dissect his intent
And make him scared and make him shake
All inside I feel a sigh
Where a flame makes a sigh? Well..
Blows out and loses a will to burn up the hate filled eyes that you
ejaculate on our weary broken prison sells
I'd like to make you the fucking mess you see when pitying me, so your eyes
gather at my clothes
Wondering if these are my real breasts
I'm a girl, and he's a guy
Let me get it clear for you so you don't have to-
Kick us in the Auschwitz in your category mind
So you don't have to feel obliged, to apologize and bore us with all the
similarities in your life.
Let it go and don't bother me about my penis or the impotence between us
Or do us a favour and lie down and die
I am a girl with a penis and testicals, haven't you realised the feelings
why?
Can't you 'get' that all this clutter you heave on our facades, can't be the
fret that fate bestows, but it still cuts and bleeds and motivates me to
write this prose
It still wounds the needy
It still steals from the look that's left wanting
You just couldn't sit down and listen, could you? You just couldn't be the
mother and father you are. You can't let me be happy at 13; you had to force
me to change outside and let me fall to pierces within my glass and crystal
sharp edged male exterior. What's contained in here? Lots and lots of pain
and a hint of envy. For the faces we see.. Who we would risk our life to be,
to be
BITCH
That's how we feel inside.
So I'm a girl and he's a guy. Please remember. And don't. Don't. Ask why