Clues

I used to tell people
That I was “poorly socialized,”
But that wasn’t really true.
My socialization would have made a lot more sense
In the body of a boy,
Particularly the rather large chunk
Of toxic masculinity I absorbed.
It should have been a clue.
I liked the things boys liked.
I wanted to do the things that boys did.
Not that I thought girls couldn’t do these things,
Or that I ever wanted to “be” a boy,
Except when I was told
I couldn’t do what I liked—
I just wanted to be myself
And that meant baseball and weights and math,
And not dolls and dresses and jump rope.
Don’t tell me or anyone else what I can’t do.
Just let me be me, whatever that is.