A Poem About Visibility
I think I'd like to get a little more personal with y'all, this time I'm ready to make it free for everyone!
Starting with a quick announcement because I’m so excited: I’m going LIVE on substack for the first time THIS FRIDAY AT 2PM CST!! And I won’t be doing it alone… I’ll be doing it with
& , the unbelievably wonderful hosts of !! I love Today In Gay, and I’m so excited to talk all things queer joy with Vico and Nay! Here’s the link to check it out.The week of Trans Day of Visibility, I had grand plans of writing something long and well thought out, but then plans changed and I ended up at the Missouri Capitol. Again. This time, testifying against an anti-trans bathroom ban.
So instead of sitting down for a long writing session, I decided to do something a bit more vulnerable. I want to share a poem I wrote a few years ago about some of the costs of visibility that I had experienced throughout my life, called “Can I Ask You a Question?”.
I’ve been so many things to so many people, as I mentioned in my TDOV post a few weeks ago, and I didn’t always carry that weight quite so well. I thought it might be meaningful to be a little more raw about some of the challenges I faced so that some of you might find some comfort, or at least some solidarity.
I started this out as a paid-subscriber only post, honestly mostly because I was scared for it to get out there into the world for everyone to see it. But the reaction that I received was so overwhelmingly kind, I’ve decided it’s time to share this out with everyone!
Can I ask you a question?
Are you sure you’re manly enough to want to do this whole trans thing?
Do you mind if I still call you she?
Can you wait a little longer ‘till you do something permanent?
Can you be a little more patient? We’re trying to learn.
Can I ask you a question?
What does it mean to be trans, to be queer, to go beyond the binary?
What do we tell the other students?
Can you lead us, can you guide us?
Can you give us some grace? We’re trying to learn.
Can I ask you a question?
How did you know?
How does it feel?
Have you done enough that it’s safe for me?
Can you keep this conversation a secret? I’m just trying to learn.
Can I ask you a question?
Why didn’t you tell me sooner?
You don’t mind that I don’t want to touch you, right?
Does this make me bi now?
Can you be more patient? I’m just trying to learn.
Can I ask you a question?
Do I really have to use they?
Where do all these young people come up with these genders?
Why isn’t everyone as patient as you? Don’t they know I’m just trying to learn?
Can I ask you a question?
Isn’t it cheating?
Aren’t they too young?
Have you read the studies?
Can I ask you a question?
Is it going to be okay?
How do we make it better?
I’m scared, but I don’t think that’s a question.
Can I ask me a question?
Did I do enough?
Will it ever be enough?
What did it cost?
Can I ever get it back?
Can I give you an answer?
I don’t know.
Maybe I’ve never known.
I was 15.
I couldn’t know.
I hope this meant something to you. It means a whole lot to me.
With love as always,
Ben
Thanks for taking the risk to share this widely. It can help those of us who are allies to be better allies. And it's beautiful.
I think you're brave and smart. I enjoy your writing, and I appreciate what fortitude it must have taken to make the transition, to be public about it, to write about it, to be willing to put yourself out there exposed and vulnerable. I applaud you and look forward to more good queer news! Love ,Virg