alix olson – gender game lyrics
you wanna give me a shiner
cause i look like this
and i got a v-g-n-?
see, i’m familiar with this gender game,
i’ve played this war many times before
on this playground called my ident-ty
when p-b-rty hit like dodge b-lls
and freeze-tagged as sissy-f-gged
my best friend dissed me- common interests,
different anatomy.
see, v-g-n- meant quieter, caretaker, peacemaker.
v-g-n- meant keeping lips closed, keeping bodies posed.
v-g-n- was silent dolls and no action toys,
v-g-n- was punches when i played with the boys.
so i learned to take it in the stomach, i learned to fight to make friends.
and as i learned to make that bullsh-t end,
v-g-n- became a slippery slide for my little finger
v-g-n- became a quiver that lingered,
v-g-n- became what i looked for, worked for, stood for,
i “viva la v-g-n-‘d all over the place!”
i revitalized v-g-n-‘s grace, i discovered v-g-n-‘s taste.
i became a fine diner. put my face in v-g-n- after v-g-n-.
and then i was faced with some other lipservice
putting me in my place
that v-g-n- should not be liberator.
but dictator.
of the shoes we wear. the hair we crop.
the palms we clasp. the way we walk.
the sp-ce we use. the threads we choose.
well, i refuse to follow suit.
cause i gotta confess, my straight jacket is a dress.
you know it used to be a crime
to wear clothes that didn’t scream
“vagin-a!”
i wear these shoes so i can move with my own easy spirit.
i don’t shave my legs cause
it gets cold. besides, my legs rebel
against the bl–dy h-ll of
shaved and sliced
and since when is my body hair something to judge?
is furry a male privilege-
or a patriarchal plot by gillette?
i don’t cut my nails cause i’ve got hammering to do.
i’m pounding out my path as i cruise this gender landscape,
as i peruse the choice between silence and
violence.
matthew shepard was bent, so you hang him to a fence,
brandon teena was murdered as a liar for hiding his
v-g-n-. and i can’t even sit
in a restaurant without causing a stir:
“whaddya have sir? whaddya have sir? whaddya have sir?”
i have a v-g-n-!
yes, i’ve got a v-g-n- and you can still call me sir,
cause i can’t cure
this visual disease of yours.
but i don’t give a d-mn about “sir” or “ma’am”.
so, in the “f” or “m” boxes they give,
i forgive myself for not fitting in
and blame the world for lack of clarity.
i deliberate.
p-n-s? i got one y’know. i write down “d” for d-ld-,
i write down “d” for
“don’t know,” i fill in “f” for
fi-fie-foe male!
yes, i’m a giant v-g-n-!
and i am too big for these boxes they give,
too real for this gender toyland
built over soiled contradictions
with barbie bricks and ken cornerstones
built over the skulls and bones of our transgendered ancestors.
danger:
she-men working above. and beyond. you.
yes, we are deconstruction workers.
we are exposing unfounded bedrocks
that bed us to one s-x, that wed us to one gender.
we are overturning those stones,
we are throwing them back.
we are making revolution
a gender evolution.
we are invoking strategy, we are revoking shame.
and we are calling it. we are calling it
refusal to be named.
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