Not A Boy

Students stare when I pass from class to class,

Teachers even give me double takes,

And glare when they realize what they see.

I'm not a boy.

My hair is cropped short, my jeans bag,

My breasts smashed into a tight sports bra,

But I'm not a boy.

In the bathroom they shreik in terror,

As if I'm in there by accident, 

Or maybe they are.

Why can't I just be accepted in one look?

Why does it take a throuough examination

Just to decided the irrelevant question?

"Are you a boy or a girl?"

Aren't schools supposed to be a place

For learning new things?

Well, I want them to learn this:

I'm not a boy.

As if it matters.