It’s a boy!
Or
It’s a girl!
As if the universe fits in syllables,
as if the cosmos of identity collapses
into the curve of a newborn’s skin.
But tell me—
what about the bodies that do not obey your script?
The ones that blur your binaries,
spill over your neat lines?
They call us anomalies,
we call ourselves alive.
Cisgender?
Comfortable in your cage?
Bauer said it:
“No one really knows why so many fit into such arbitrary categories.”
Arbitrary.
Like a coin toss deciding your future.
Like pink for her, blue for him—
as if colors could contain a soul.
I am not your either/or.
I am and.
I am both.
I am neither.
I am beyond.
This is ungendering—
the art of unshackling,
the science of self,
the revolution whispered in every heartbeat
that refuses to choose between cages
By Guillit A.
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