The invisible woman

This poem appears as part of “We’re Right Here: Transgender and Nonbinary Unitarian Universalist Leaders” in the Summer 2019 edition, developed in collaboration with TRUUsT and edited by the Rev. Theresa I. Soto.

Behind a façade I hid my soul.
I feared what others would say
     (and I feared what I knew to be true).

But I heard you singing in four-part harmony
     that everyone,
     everyone,
     is beautiful.
And I hoped that everyone included me.

I wanted to join your song.
I wanted to raise my voice with yours.
And that’s when I discovered that everyone
     doesn’t mean
     all.

You told me to
     be silent,
You told me to
     go back to the shadows.
You told me to disappear,
     again.
You said it was for the best if my soul remained
     hidden.

Did I have some hideous, Medusan power
To harden the order of creation into
     ugliness?
That is what I heard you say.

I believed you.

I believed you
     for a time.

But my soul’s tears
And its longing to live its own truth
Grew more powerful than any admonitions,
     than any fears.

And I began to sing.

A small voice at first, shaky and tentative.
It was a small voice that could not, would not
     stop.

As my own music slowly
     crescendoed with confidence,
My hymn soon rang out:

“Enough! Enough!
I will step into the sunlight.
I will sing myself!
The song of my soul
will be heard.”

Though I could never raise my voice
     in your chorus,
You can join my choir of glorious
     harmonies.
And as I have been freed,
     so might you find
     freedom also.
Not an easy freedom,
But it is born of pain and experience,
     of innocence and hope.
It is a divine oratorio.

Yet our tune can only begin
If you believe that I
Am just as beautiful as anyone.
And that we are just as beautiful
     as each other.