Cisgender Privilege, a tweet poem.

Cisgender Privilege, a tweet poem.

— (((CharlLandsberg))) (@charllandsberg) March 11, 2017

privilege is saying "this is me"
and people accepting that automatically

— (((CharlLandsberg))) (@charllandsberg) March 11, 2017

privilege is saying "who I am is true"
and folks just fucking believe you

— (((CharlLandsberg))) (@charllandsberg) March 11, 2017

privilege is saying "this is my name"
and folks still treat you the same

— (((CharlLandsberg))) (@charllandsberg) March 11, 2017

privilege is your pronouns respected
and them never having to be corrected

— (((CharlLandsberg))) (@charllandsberg) March 11, 2017

privilege is having your pants ignored
not scrutinised by a perverted hoard

— (((CharlLandsberg))) (@charllandsberg) March 11, 2017

privilege is when you're simply the norm
accepted as cannon in gender and form

— (((CharlLandsberg))) (@charllandsberg) March 11, 2017

privilege is getting hopped up on cisgender vanity
and denying trans people a shred of humanity

— (((CharlLandsberg))) (@charllandsberg) March 11, 2017

privilege is you lying about our sex and our gender
and then making out as if we're the pretender

— (((CharlLandsberg))) (@charllandsberg) March 11, 2017

privilege is misgendering millions of souls
and enforcing ignorant patriarchal roles

— (((CharlLandsberg))) (@charllandsberg) March 11, 2017

privilege is ignoring our constant cries
and replacing them with more of your lies

— (((CharlLandsberg))) (@charllandsberg) March 11, 2017

privilege is kicking us when we're down
and mocking us while we drown

— (((CharlLandsberg))) (@charllandsberg) March 11, 2017

privilege is the lies you entertain so often
that send trans people to an early coffin

— (((CharlLandsberg))) (@charllandsberg) March 11, 2017

privilege is the curse of cisgender tongues
breathing forth hatred from indifferent lungs

— (((CharlLandsberg))) (@charllandsberg) March 11, 2017

privilege is turning around without care
your hands in the air, not a worry to spare,

— (((CharlLandsberg))) (@charllandsberg) March 11, 2017

tomorrow we're dead, and we're no longer there.
tomorrow we're dead, and we're no longer there.

— (((CharlLandsberg))) (@charllandsberg) March 11, 2017

The Man who Knows

Be careful of the man who knows,

the one who's walked the single path,

the man who says, "this way,"

when life has taken them there,

like a dog strung along by the smell of meat.

When privilege has made him ignorant.

Convenience and wealth has led him;

down the path where the grass is dead.

He says, "see, I know."

He discounts you easily and quickly.

He doesn't ask why.

He doesn't know.

He will tell you he is smarter than you.

And finally having convinced himself,

convinced of his own superiority,

his entitlement to your body and charity,

he would rather have you die,

than finding ways of surviving.

After all...

...if the poor want to survive,

they would be rich.

-o0o-

Behind the Wheel

I've always held a mild contempt,

for folks who say,

"when you grow up,
you'll no longer care,

for what others think of you."

It's ignorant in two respects.

Firstly,
I have grown up.

Secondly,
I grew up precisely because I knew,

that there were people,

who's thoughts of me,

could have prevented me,

from ever growing up.

Growing up care-free is a luxury,

a privilege.

Just because your streets,

are calm and empty,

don't tell me to walk blindfolded,

over the tumultuous highways,

that you don't even know exist.

Don't pretend that cars,

don't exist,

because the headlights,

aren't facing in your direction.

Don't pretend vehicular homicide,

doesn't exist,

because you've never been run over before.

Don't pretend blood,

doesn't exist,

just because you've never spilt any.

Especially,

from your vantage point,

behind the wheel.

-o0o-