courageous on accident

at seven years old

when a switch was thrown

and suddenly i knew that

something wasn’t quite right

i did not feel courageous

i was so scared

feeling nailed inside

this coffin of a body

that no longer felt like mine

there were no words

that my tongue could wrap around

to verbalize how wrong it felt

when i was called daughter

so i swallowed that bitterness

and felt it like a

twisting knife in my guts

and i did not feel courageous

i did not feel brave

as i clawed my way out

of that pink box i had been

involuntarily thrown into

but i have been told that

i am brave

i am courageous

i am strong

for being transgender

and i don’t know what

to do with that

and it was not bravery

that had me telling my mother

i needed her credit card number

to buy a cheap chest binder

off of amazon

because i was really a boy

i had decided i would

not be dying as a woman

and be buried in a nice dress

with the wrong name

and gender on my tombstone

i decided then

standing in the kitchen

of the little cabin we lived in

16 years old and terrified

that i would make myself

into a bright light of a boy

and i really don’t think

of that as being a courageous act

it was one of preservation

of finally deciding that

living was better than surviving

and the funny thing is

that makes people see me as brave

and i don’t know what to do with that

because i was scared then

and i have been scared since

the only difference is

i am going to live long enough

this time around

so that i just might be

able to see what people mean

when they tell me i am brave