My belly twisted, my stomach knotted. I swallowed a lot of my saliva as if I could hold something in, to keep “it” in. But I don’t know what “it” is at this point. What am I keeping in? Am I hiding not to be discovered, not to be peeked at, not to be seen at all?
For the last few months, I felt that I was glowing, sending my golden rays around, warming up the people around, including my very self. But as soon as my past arrived, I pulled the drape down over me and have been watchful to cut all the light seeping out through the cracks of my pretense, my facade, the grey, the neutral face, wiping my gender out… so I can be what?
The past isn’t the present, but it has some power over the present. It has built the path to now and after. The way I had rolled on the road is persistently coming back in the way I walk today. The specifics of a person’s walk don’t change even though the road changes. The repetition of those particular movements, shoulder stooped, dragging the right foot a little longer than the left, using the outer edge of feet more, the chest hollow or the back humped. Whatever the details are, this is embedded somewhere, somewhere in the person.
Knowing that I don’t have to walk in the same way that I’ve walked before doesn’t help much in changing the way I walk now. It should be practiced consciously. The road has changed. I can stride, I can sway, I can jump, I can roll, I can tiptoe, I can thump. And all of those. My unconventional movement will definitely be noticeable to others. Does it matter? Does it matter that I have a fire inside and shoot my glow out to the world, to the universe, and perhaps… to you?
<June 26th, 2019>