Short Hair, Don't Care

What pronouns do you want?

Like within the course of a week, I could change my gender identity.

Is it because of a boy?

Like every life event must be reflected in an appearance change.

I didn't know you swing for the other team.

Like the rules demand it's a calling card.

You're a bit young to know, don't you think?

Like my haircut defines my lifestyle.

 

Because that's how this works, right?

I come out of the closet and I get a starter pack

of five flannels

three pairs of mom jeans

a pair of utility boots

and a gift card to Supercuts

because that's the big gay warning flag

"be careful with me, I'm a lesbian"

and that's the only thing it could mean.

 

Not

"Carey Mulligan got the same one and I've been dying to do it"

Not

"I've had the same shoulder length for months and it's time for a change"

Not

"How about every aesthetic decision I make isn't a signal of some life crisis"

Not

"I don't accept that question as a way to categorize me so now you can claim minorities as friends"

Not

"Why am I not allowed to get a damn pixie cut without getting sorted"

 

 

 

Just

"I thought I'd like the way I look."

This poem is about: 
Me
My community
My country
Our world

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