Misgendering Me – Poem

When you misgender me,
I don’t get angry.
Instead, I lose an amount of respect.
For each time you label me as a binary,
a piece of trust attached to our friendship
breaks away and dies.
Why? Because with every
misgendering moment
that has no apology or correction,
I realise the truth about you:
you seem to think you know me
better than I know myself;
you’d rather cause me pain and discomfort;
suggest my safety is less important;
and that my existence is a hoax,
a charade, or a game for you to play.
You’re happier upsetting me
so you can remain comfortable.
When I correct you,
you hear me but don’t listen-
how do you think that makes me feel?
And when you do hear me,
you act like the correction of my pronouns and gender
are an inconvenience to you.
As if changing a few words in your sentence
causes more harm to you
than your disregard does to me.
Clearly, our friendship, relationship, love isn’t enough for you to change.
You don’t want me to be open or honest,
you just want me to fit into one of your colour coded boxes.
That’s a mindset,
I’m not willing to work with.
After all the explanations and knowledge I gave you,
you gave into the ignorance.