“Mom, how do you know what gender a baby is?”
She looked up from the dishes
I didn’t like that look
“Oh, moms just, know!”
“But how?”
And how was I to know?
Too much testosterone, too big of breasts
I’ll spare you the rest
But school wasn’t fun
I was never good enough for anyone
When I turned 21, I knew I was gay
(That’s Doctor Who’s fault)
And then I realized,
Wait
If I have exceedingly large amounts of testosterone, male proportions, and breasts and ovaries…
I’m this weird thing called “intersex”
It’s why I never fit in
Women’s bracelets snap because my arm is too big
Bras are a pain in the chest
I can outrun and out-sport anyone, any day
My periods go every which way
And my new church won’t give me the priesthood
I’m not a man or a woman, I’m both and nothing all at once
I feel this weird urge,
I want to bless the afflicted people I see
I want to bless my sick cat
I had that power once, a lifetime ago, I’m almost sure
I remember the feel of my hands on people’s heads
And I want to work in the temple as more than just a flower on the wall, guiding people to the correct rooms
Yet I want to be a mother,
Teach young women’s,
Be a role model
Be a she
I’ve found my church,
why hasn’t she found me?

Moving, both elegant and raw, if that makes any sense. Blessings.