Toulouse Théodore Poetry

The smell of alcohol swabs is invading our nostrils
There is a slight shimmer of nervous sweat on our palms
We fill our syringes with testosterone
We plunge them into our stomachs
We empty them
This is what we do, every Wednesday 

I read somewhere that trans people were created
For the same reason fruit was created, not wine
Yeast, not bread
So that humanity may share in the act of creation
I tell you this as we place hello kitty bandaids 
Where the syringes pierced our skin
Adhesive getting stuck in our freshly-sprouted 
Stomach hairs

Each month, we take a video documenting
Our voice changes
Each month they drop deeper
At the start of the videos
We reintroduce ourselves
Hi, my name is
This is my voice
Each month we are new people

We walk through our neighbourhood 
Heads held high with the newfound pride 
Of becoming who we are meant to be
Of taking destiny in our hands
And forcing it into the shape
Of our choosing

We run down the streets
Out of breath
Our footsteps slapping the pavement
Like voices repeating:

We are here
We are here
We are here

Toulouse Théodore Poetry

Toulouse Théodore He/They

Tioh'tia:ke / "Montréal"