The Price

We talk about the price of things a lot
You always hear folk say
“Freedom isn’t free.”
Honestly, though
I’m not sure if those folk really know…
The price of freedom
How much it can really be

I stepped forward
I claimed my truth
I have learned better than most
What freedom costs

Freedom cost me
My parents
My grandparents
My self-esteem
Even a little bit
Of my sanity

I know what I’m feeling must be real
But why don’t others see it?
If it’s not obvious to them
Is it really there at all?

This feeling I have
I look in the mirror and see
The man they don’t…
I look in the mirror and cringe
At the girl everyone says I am…

I hear my voice in recordings
I want to cry
Every time I hear “ma’am” on the phone
A reminder of the man I’m not yet…

This life has not been easy
In order for me to have the freedom to be myself
I must pay a price
My freedom isn’t free

Do I give up familial ties
To be true to myself?

Do I give up the ability to find a job?

Do I give up using a public restroom in peace?

This life is only getting harder
More costly
More intense

I wish it were over
I wish I were normal
I wish I could hide

My queerness
My transness
My maleness
My femmeness
My whole self

Sometimes I wish it were over

Not over as in finished
Over as in paid for
Moved on
Over as in
Living my life
The man I am
Outside matching In
Over as in
Never getting ma’am’d again
Never being a Miss
Always being Mr. or Mx.

This life of mine is costly
I still don’t know its price
Bit by bit
I’m finding out

Freedom really isn’t free

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.