I look at myself in the mirror and

I see a male, not Narcissus.

 

So, what does that mean?

Should I think like a male?

Act like a male?

Feel like a male?

Dress like a male?

I hunger.

I thirst.

I think.

I desire.

I grow tired.

Are these male?

What should I hide that’s not male?

 

When I was 5, I put on my mother’s petticoat.

My father told me to take it off because

I was a boy.

 

I was curious. I still am.

 

I reflect on all my father did,

for he did many things that were

not male according to the conventions

of that time.

 

He ran the house because my

mother could not.

For she was a mother not in the

accepted sense, for her mind would

not allow her to be anything else.

 

Did he wear the petticoat that he

told me to take off?

 

I look at myself in the mirror with

a human look and I see age and beauty

and the wear of years that I

do not regret.

 

I see me in the mirror, and my father

as ghost standing there looking,

and between us hangs

something neither of us can

name—not the petticoat,

not the male, but the space

where both dissolve into care.

 

29/11/2025