Gender Queery

Didn't the Barbarians put it best at the dawn of time...."Are you a boy? or Are you a girl?

Someone will answer the question, not necessarily you,and then... Then you know what bathrom to use. but when the question is "Am i a boy? or Am I a girl? then the fun begins. Genderqueer. this is the modern view which i didnt grow up with.

The Bugis have 5 genders. Surely we in America can have more. I grew up with the gendered soul... gender as an immutable mark upon the eternal self. And transexuals were stuck with bodies that didn't match the soul. Male and female He made them...

We didn't know that She made them. And She is a lot more playful.

I return endlessly to this question... Who am I?..Who would I be? Illness recently brought it back to me...When you are ill, and lacklustre then I felt that my feminine side was more challenged.. That is perhaps the lustre... but it is more that I am feminine with some people and more masculine with others... and illness cut me off from my normal weekend social life.. and it is harder to find Belinda.. in a coughing, sneezing.. mess in sweatpants.. than to find Bill. But we all end up coughing, sneezing.. and too lacklustre to suit up for saturday night, so what does that mean. Much of my life has been a journey from Bill to Belinda...If I am not making that journey and I have not arrived at Belinda.. then what?

So Is there a fair port called Genderqueer where weary mariners, their silks and satins in tatters can find refuge?

I can pretend so. I put on a dress or I put on a suit.. It is my choice... no? Not looking very butch in my drab..not fooling too many of them in my drag. There is a social world where I can be that. But what about in my heart, in my soul, in my loins?

Can you walk to two ways? Can you talk two ways? What about that soul? Is it gendered?

The androgyne... My hair is long. My body hairless. Small breasts... Thin not given to overly masculine demonstrations except for the occasional know it all asshole of course. The weekend, so my nails are painted but only in clear polish... I am home, and my clothes all came from the women's department, a skirt from a friend, a blouse that I have worn as a boy in NYC.. sort of a few flounces on a plain garment.

Doesn't a nomad need to wander, and every port is a place to go to, and to leave.

Halloween is coming.

What shall I wear?