Lynne Jones – May 2025

This poem is a composite depiction of experiences of being perceived incorrectly.

Once all the transcripts were reread
I noticed one consistent golden thread 
Something within the heuristic weave 
Relating to how each of us had been perceived 

Like Rebecca Solnit’s landscape of blue 
Identity obscured in a gendered hue 
Look to see the person I became 
Witness the trans joy and hope I claim 

Fear me, slag me, call me depraved 
You have no idea of what I overcame 
Or what I thought of what you thought was me 
I will spell it out plainly; I am me! 

Objectified and caged at school gates 
Judged and vilified for what I ate 
Call me names full of hate. 
Call me man.  It doesn’t resonate. 

Perceive me as a threat while she takes a piss 
My non-binary identity ridiculed or dismissed. 
Call me a sissy, poof, weirdo 
Assume I’m a hegemonic hetero? 

When we don’t open our eyes, to bias 
When we don’t open our minds, it ties us 
To social injustice and the self-righteous 
Patriarchal, white supremacist, colonial, pious. 

Be open, be kind, be curious, be real. 
Remember “weirdos” also feel.