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what does it feel like to be loved and included? to grow up protected? to call yourself something— one thing-- 

and take for granted that thing that says 

you belong? 

i can say 

that i'm an american a woman 

a scorpio 

i can say 

i have a body with 

two feet 

two hands 

two breasts 

and a belly. 

what does it mean

to be your own revelation? 

to be your own revolution 

to learn the hard way 

to gift yourself the gift 

of love's permission 

to find your own radical acceptance 

to open your door 

to walk right through 

to meet yourself 

again, 

what does it mean? 

This poem speaks to my intersecting identities, growing up sexually abused and feeling inherently 'other'—unfeminine, queer, biracial and even more generally, unable to fit in with societal norms. It also speaks to my growth, healing, love and self acceptance. The poem asks questions, leaving a lot unsaid between its lines. This work was originally published in Beneath the Soil Volume iii, a collaborative zine featuring artwork from queer survivors of sexual violence