Process, Progress by Georgia Dobson
CW: homophobia, transphobia, sex
14. You ask anyone older than you ‘HOW’?
Your parents will ask ‘IF’?
Sometimes you'll ask yourself ‘WHEN’ you'll ever ‘know’?
Every hetero source soothes, “it's a phase”,
every other one warns: “it's a process”.
16. You've underestimated this.
How three, short, words:
“I. Am. Gay.”
“Not. A. Girl.”
are a rebirth.
Not once, but repeatedly — exhausting until you don't think about its ejection:
some three words are all you are now.
18. It is background noise.
‘DID YOU ASSUME MY GENDER?’
vibrates from that 7ft mass of cishet, cystic hate.
The push towards your glossed friends is public pornography. Oh,
you are angry now but not as you once were;
you know their minds, their filth, their spit —
after all, you've tasted it.
They are nothing to you now (as you have always been to them),
just passing the time until that point, that bliss —
that state of knowing and being known
that these streets could never hold.
An unsustainable ejection taken to be gummed, chewed, rolled;
spat back out.
19. Onto hands and knees.
It is daylight now, and you realise
this city mutates you.
Fighting for freedom of self is one thing,
fighting to cling to that self is another. Forgetting
what makes you different is to point the mirror in at itself;
an infinity of the same image with an end too small to see.
These eyes see that end now — red and blinking
into the fresh dawn: reborn
again, into the light of day.
Georgia is a History student from Nottingham Trent University and is currently working as our Editorial Assistant for work experience. Although Georgia’s writing has had to take a back seat due to academic pursuits and priorities, Georgia has made regular appearances at slam poetry evenings and has had work published in several zines and online on writing blogs. Welcome to the team, Georgia!