Ray’s Rays Number 7: Reclaiming Who You Are, by Radiance Angelina Petro

Ray’s Rays Number 7

Reclaiming Who You Are

by

Radiance Angelina Petro

 

 

 

 

 

Perhaps the string of trauma travels all the way back

to the moment you were born—to that

exact moment when you were lifted

from your mother’s womb,

and the doctor pronounced your gender

based on your body parts, when the doctor

pronounced your health, when your parents

fixed a name upon you making it you

even though perhaps, it wasn’t.

Perhaps the first moment you ever felt

less than, like you’re body was wrong,

like your identity was wrong, like who you were

fundamentally was wrong, was the moment you were born.

Perhaps it all started there and it only threaded its way

up until this very moment.

Perhaps you are still asking who you are.

No matter your age—15 or 97, if the thread

of confusion stretches back through time to the moment

you were born and you were told who you are

without your input, it makes sense not to know now.

Despite their good intentions, they began molding you

while you were still covered with blood and inhaling the burning air,

and didn’t stop—the thread wound its way through your life

tangling the truth of who you inwardly knew yourself to be.

It’s time. Imagine that just-born-being spilling out into YOUR arms.

Imagine you shielding that child from labels, from constructs, even

from names. Imagine allowing that being to choose

their own name through you, and imagine

celebrating and supporting them if they choose

to change their name later in life—even if it’s a hundred times.

Imagine letting them tell you what gender they are—even if that changes

a hundred times over the course of their life. Imagine loving

and celebrating them no matter who they know and say themselves to be.

Imagine you taking charge over this screaming, bloody being.

Imagine cleaning them, imagine, perhaps, nursing them

whether you have breasts or not,

imagine feeding them somehow from your very being.

Turn away to shield the child from anyone who would try to control

or impose their limited, socially constructed ideas onto them.

And then realize: you gave birth to yourself.

You are your own parent. You are your own child,

and you are going to protect that child, yourself

with all the fire and fury of hell itself.

NO ONE will EVER hurt you again.

 

 

 

 

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