Monday, 9 May 2016

‘Cocky’ by Julia Serano

Julia Serano – ‘Cocky’

We’re often told that we’re living in a man’s world. And in this culture, no image represents power more than the phallic symbol. And if the penis equal power, then I am illegally armed. And my body full of freckles and feminine curves is like a stealth bomber. I fly just under everyone’s radar, but only because they choose not to see me.

Only because nobody wants to believe, that a sweet, petite, green-eyed girl like me, could ever possibly be packing heat. They say it’s not the size of the wand, but the magic that it does.

Well, after many months on oestrogen, my penis is pretty darn small. But she has supernatural powers – she’s like some pissed of ancient Greek Goddess.

My penis changes the meanings of everything.

And because of her, every one of my heterosexual x-girlfriends, has slept with a lesbian.

And every guy who hits on me these days could be accused of being gay.
Because my penis bends everyone who’s straight, and she can make the most entitled cat-callers and womanizers scurry away with their tails between their legs.

All because of six small words: I used to be a man. And being a transsexual, I realize that most people see my female-ness as a facade – it’s an elaborate hoax.

But I am more real than any of them could ever hope to be. I’m more real because, unlike them, my gender’s not base upon what other people think of me. And that may make me an object of ridicule, but I am not the butt of anyone’s jokes.

Because I know that people make fun of trannies because we are the one thing they fear the most.

I am more badass than any gangster, more dangerous than an entire marine corps. My penis is more powerful than the cocks of a million alpha-males, all put together.

Because when a man is defined as that which is not female, and a woman is defined as that which is not male, then I am, the loose thread – that unravels the gender of everyone around me.

They say it’s not the size of the boat, but the motion of the ocean.
Well my penis gives most people sea-sickness.
She makes them dizzy, because most people are not secure enough in their own masculinity or femininity to survive a night in the sack with me.

My penis turns simple sexual pleasures into political acts. She turns biological possibilities into cold, hard facts. My penis is the curiosity, that you’ve been told will kill your cat.

See, my penis can be deadly, especially to me.

And I’ve heard almost every True Crime Story about what frightened macho boys do to trannies. Every bludgeoning and mutilation, bodies beaten beyond recognition.

And I’ve imagined it all happening to me, first person. And every time I get up in front of a crowd to perform one of my “outspoken word pieces” I can feel myself morph into a slow moving target.

And after the show, when I walk back to my car, I’ll be holding my breath, half expecting that inevitable ‘blow’ to the back of the head. And sometimes I wonder why it hasn’t happened yet.
And sometimes I wonder why they don’t just get it over with.
 And sometimes I wish I was just dead. I wish I was dead.

See, I never wanted to be dangerous, and I spent most of my life wishing I didn’t have a penis.

And I used to hate my body for not making any sense to me.
And these days I often hate it for being so inbetween.
And some days I can hardly get out of bed because my body is so weighed down with ugly meanings that my culture has dumped all over me.

See, I’ve been made to feel shame and self-loathing, so that everyone else can take comfort in what their bodies mean.

And if I seem a bit cocky, it’s because I refuse to make apologies for my body any more.
I am through being the human sacrifice offered up to appease other people’s gender issues.

Some women have a penis, some men don’t.
And the rest of the world is just going to have to get the fuck over it.

And if I’m destined to be the loose thread that unravels the gender of everyone around me, then I’m going to pull and pull and pull, until everyone is exposed, until they all finally see that all along, they were merely wearing the emperor’s new clothes.

And I know that people don’t like it when I turn the tables on them.
What the hell else am I supposed to do?
Play a hand from a deck of cards that was stacked against me?

And if I seem a bit cocky,  it’s because I spent my entire life being backed into a corner. And like a frightened animal pumped full of adrenaline, sick of hunger and hiding I’m finally desperate enough to come out fighting.

- Julia Serano