Limited by every movement. Mocked for any difference. Pushed to discomfort. An overarching ambiguous cloud lingers over me. Puzzled in every form of this thing called life. Told to wear certain shades. Told to not act a certain way. Others are in control of this body. My home.
My home is constantly painted by others. The paintings that build a stranger in the mirror. I shiver with each glance. I keep running until I collapse. This fall is a revelation of who I want to be. Of liberating my identity.
Stray away from any binary. Everything is much more complicated. Fluidity. A continuum. Each piece of cloth. My clothing. Is part of the restructure. I shall paint my body. My home. To express my true self.
Editor’s Note: This submission is in relation to a gallery exhibit about identity hosted by the Ethnic Student Center. For more information, read the full article here.
Photo submitted by Alan Alatorre-Barajas.