I come from small-town conservatism

From knowing the name of every child in your school

I come from expensive house

Growing mould inside

Peeling wall paper

I come from Oak Trees as big as the universe

I come from blood-stained shirt collars

I come from gender-segregated blazer colours

Too big even by year eleven

I come from angry spitting

From words unsaid

I come from the confusion of smelling weed

Ostensibly for the first time

And feeling like home

I come from hippie festivals and circus tricks

From chocolate chai & poi

From grass & fire

I come from finding answers on the internet

I come from not gay as in happy

But queer as in fuck you

I come from fighting for my gender

Non-binary

I come from ne, they, xe & ey

I come from lack of recognition of my identity

I come from words on a page

I come from words shouted on a stage

I come from lies

From deception

From not really knowing the truth but acting like we do anyway

I come from an alphabet soup

I come from the T and P and the Q

I come from arguments in the changing room

I come from mediation

I come from bad days, bad months, and bad years

I come from good days

I come from climbing trees

From scraped knees & split lips

I come from freedom

In chains

I come from a country too polite for its own good

I come from British Anarchy

From when people stood up to fight for my rights

I come from smashed windows & hunger strikes

The word “beauty” hung upon too many people’s lips

I come from redefending words in my own image

I come from please & thank you

Always

My voice raising to such a quiet femininity because

I was taught to take up less space than I do

I come from dancing on my own whilst everyone else sits & watches

I come from all the best bits & the worst bits

The bits to which I will not admit

And the best friends I’ve ever met

I come from all of this

And so much more

I come from clicking bones & tuneless humming

And I

Am still coming