A powerful poem from a member of our Trans Teen Writing Squad. We will be posting a new entry in our series every Monday.


Hello, my name is Lekker,

and I keep this paradox on the crowns of my cuspids.

My mother has never checked my mouth for sores or secrets and I keep my lips pressed tight in hopes she won't grow curious.

I write my name on papers like a dirty word.

I shout curses into the XY chaos,

a liberating punch at proving my masculinity to the boys I want to be.

I want to flow with those boys and be one of the wolfgang

wanna run amuck with those sturdy boys

standing tall and broad shouldered

with painted nails hidden in my palm.

I ache to rip fur from flanks with those sodden boys, a spitblood-pact on my life.

To say Lekker and not beg forgiveness.

My mother introduces me,

“Hello, this is my daughter *******.”

I feel curses surge like power lines up my tongue,

electricity burning my lungs as I suck in those words and exhale forgiveness.

I can forgive her, though she could not forgive me, I fear.

Spitblood-pact: Promise you'll be the truest form of yourself. You are mother, you are father, you are your own guide. You are a kiss, you are a cuss. You deserve to be here, you deserve to make mistakes.

I cut open my slimy palms and shake hands with myself.

I promise.

-Lekker Jagelka