halfthoughts

A gender journey

Tag: Poetry

Guest Post for the May Carnival Of Aces: Questioning Your Faith

This guest post was written by Nuri for the May Carnival of Aces on the theme Questioning Your Faith.


 

Being a Muslim ace is like, “Well, it might be okay, but at the same time, it could ruin my life.” Some people in your community will accept you because they’re beautiful human beings, and others won’t because they’ve been brought up in a culture which they’re taught is synonymous with their religion, when it actually isn’t.

Do you know what the purpose of a Pakistani Muslim woman is? It’s to get married and cook and clean for your husband, who is obviously too high above you to do anything to help. I am so lucky that my parents don’t expect that of me. As an aroace nonbinary lazy ass who doesn’t want to do chores, I would disappoint them in so very many respects.

But religion is not the same as culture. And while many Muslim aces probably live in padlocked closets like me because of a toxic culture, religion, at its core, is about your relationship with God. That’s why I think that no matter what your gender or sexuality, it’s easy to have faith in God not despite it, but because of it. It’s a Muslim belief that life is a test, and being ace is just a part of that for me.

Having faith in other people is what’s really difficult. Coming out isn’t ideal for me right now, because I only just got my parents off my back about how I want to be a writer instead of a doctor and study English instead of medicine (any Asian kids can probably relate). Now I have to convince them that not getting married and/or not having sex does not equate to total unhappiness without accidentally coming out.

For me, religion never needed to be a weapon to exclude people, because it is for everyone. I wish that other people could see the merits of that way of thinking. But if there’s a message to this, it’s that you shouldn’t let other people tell you whether you can have faith in God or not. Those people are disgusting gatekeepers. And nearly all of us aces know how damaging gatekeeping is, don’t we…

So being a Muslim ace is a bit like being an ace of any other religion or non-religion, actually. It might be okay, but at the same time, it could ruin your life. I hope that all my ace siblings have a good day and don’t lose faith, okay?

-Nuri

How Changing My Name Is Like Changing My Gender

I was born S and assigned R at birth. But the name I was assigned at birth never fit right. No one ever called me by my birth name except doctors and my grandmother. 

On the first day of school I’d always explain to the teacher, “I go by S.” That’s what everyone knew me as. That’s what I knew me as. That’s what felt right.

 I always intended to change my name legally, someday. But I was finally forced to in High School when I couldn’t deposit a check because my birth assigned name and the name on the check didn’t match. When I went through the process of changing my name, there was a lot of paperwork, but it wasn’t actually a big deal in real life. 

Everyone already knew me as me, so it wasn’t a shock. I was completely comfortable in my true name and proud of it. So I was relieved to finally have it match my legal records. 

Sometimes, when I hear the name R, I remember vaguely that I was once an R, too. But I never really considered myself to be an R, so I have a slight aversion to the name, now. 

It’s like a pair of hand me down pants that don’t fit quite right. Someone else gave them to you, so you wear them for a bit, but you are more than happy to discard them when you find a pair that do fit you exactly as they should.

I’ve already changed my identity once. How hard can it be to change it again? Who knows how many times I’ll have to change before I feel like I’m wearing the skin that was tailor made for me.

But I’m wiling to keep making adjustments until I figure out the perfect fit. Because who wants to go through their whole life wearing the wrong size hand me downs?

Funeral: A Slam Poem

You
are cordially invited
to my funeral.
The dress code
is whatever the hell you want it to be
because
it’s also a celebration.

There’s gonna be a cake
that says
It’s  a They!
written
in rainbow colors
to defy
cisnormativity.

I actually really like the color blue.
But I don’t want
you
to mistake
me
for a boy.
So we’ll just use
all
the colors instead.

But before we eat the cake,
we’re gonna say a eulogy
for her pronouns,
hung up on a cross
alongside
she
and hers,
buried
with all her dresses and skirts
and lipstick
that she never even used.

They
will be resurrected
alongside
them
and theirs
dressed in pants, sneakers and a tie.

We
will listen to them speak their first word,
watch
them take their first step,
wipe
the tears from their eyes when they fall
and clap
when they continue to crawl.

Right now,
I
can barely crawl,
but I know
if I just keep crawling,
eventually
I will learn how to walk
and someday,
maybe,
I will even know
how to run.