Youth Writings & Art
We have collected some art, poetry, songs, and short stories from transgender youth. Not all of these writings have to do with being transgender, but they are all beautiful works of art that we want to share with you. If you would like to submit some of your own creative writing, please send it to us!
We’re excited to see what you send in, but please remember that the TYEF community hosts folks of all ages, so please use your better judgement regarding content. Names and states will not be included in submissions, and images. Videos will be posted only of non-stealth youth and with parental consent.
You can email it to us at contact@transyouthequality.org or send it the old fashioned way:
Trans Youth Equality Foundation
P.O. Box 201
Orono, ME 04473
Book review by Ashton (Ash) (They/Them/He/Him), a 17 year-old non-binary youth
Book Review of PET by Akwaeke Emezi
(Content warning: this review covers topics that are included within the book regarding mentions of abuse, mentions of transphobia, and occasionally other sensitive conversations.)
I think, out of all the books I’ve ever read that have included trans characters, this is by far, the best. This book covered so many points throughout the story that, in typical literature, seem to get disregarded; tossed to the side like so many other things that sincerely deserve time in the spotlight. At first, I thought this book was going to be ‘just another book’. I was so very wrong about that; this story was so much more than simply ‘just another book’. The characters within this plot are so beautifully put together, their stories and experiences so well written and honestly make me feel every single emotion woven into their narratives. I absolutely loved this book and I am proud to say that, after reading it, it’s now my favorite story.
PET, written by Akwaeke Emezi, is an amazing work of art. The way in which the author portrays the relationships between the characters- the interaction between families and friends- it’s so beautiful. The way in which they portray transness and queerness in such normalcy (the way it should be shown in everyday life)- it just strikes me as so amazing.
Personally, I also love the representation of having sign language and other methods of communication in the story, when Jam, the main character, isn't voicing. Though I am not someone who deals with this, I can see this piece of writing possibly creating a sense of belonging for those who do communicate like Jam when she has a period of not speaking. But then again, I wouldn't want to speak over those who are actively living this experience.
Like I mentioned earlier, I really do love the way in which the author presents how the main character is a trans girl. The plot goes on to explain how when Jam was young, she didn’t speak for the first few years of her life and then the symbolization of her first time voicing was very impactful because it was to correct the person of her gender. Her story was that she ended up going on puberty blockers and then was able to get on hormones by the time she was 15, the age she is currently in the book.
Another thing that I think is especially beautiful within this story, is Jam’s relationship with her best friend, Redemption. Their entire relationship builds upon trust that has accumulated over the years of knowing one another. The sweet conversations and gentle hand holdings between the two are honestly one of the best representations of healthy friendships I have seen in a while. They respect one another's boundaries, giving each other time to breathe if they need it. It’s honestly so sweet, and I just love their interactions so much.
Redemption's parents are another part of the story in which I have a soft spot for. Especially in one scene that Jam witnesses, where Redemptions' mom, dad, and third parent, are hanging out together, seemingly resting after a long day. The three of them just seem so sweet on each other and also on their kids, Redemption and his little brother, Moss. Like three parts of a team, their relationship is yet another example of love being normalized as just another part of the story- as it should be. All three of them honestly just seem so sweet, and just them being part of the story and their relationship existing just makes me so happy.
Now, the concept of monsters and angels also seem to be a large part of the basis for the book- a big part of what the story is built on. In short, Lucille, the place in which the story takes place, it is believed that ‘monsters’ are no longer roaming about. Monsters, in this story, are basically people who are abusers or those who have and are committing evil acts. Angels, on the other hand, are thought to be people who fought back against these monsters- people who worked for the good of Lucille and to protect those who were getting harmed. Pet, a creature who emerges from one of Jam’s mother’s paintings, turns out to be a different kind of angel- a special kind that only comes over when needed. The whole story about Jam’s relationship and interactions with this creature is so interesting in so many ways, and honestly it just makes the story so much better as the storyline continues.
I also personally relate to the part in the story where Redemption is overcome by the thought of his younger brother possibly being the target of a monster, someone that could be living in his own home. As someone who is extremely protective over my younger sibling, has been through similar acts of abuse and trauma, and having to step in and protect my own brother, this part of the story really hit home. I found something in Redemption’s character that I could relate back to myself, and that is something I really, truly admire in an author’s work.
Overall, this was a beautiful story. The author pulled each detail together perfectly, rounding out the rough edges and where the rough edges needed to be shown, they left them. As a nonbinary person, I really enjoyed reading it, and being able to witness the beautiful and raw points of this book. I also personally loved that the author is nonbinary as well and as a writer myself, I hope that someday am able to create a story as amazing as this one.
Artwork by Ollie, a 17 year-old transgender boy living in New Hampshire
Songs written by a 17 year old female to male transgender youth
Speak
Please listen to me
I have a voice and I want to speak
Let me be free
Let me be me
I have so much to say
Just you always look the other way
Please give me something to feel relief
Please I just need to find peace
Just let me say what I want to
Don’t be too quick to accuse
You don’t know what it feels like inside
Don’t tell me you understand my life
You don’t understand
You don’t understand what it feels like
You don’t understand
You don’t understand what it feels like
Please just let me be me
Please just let me be free
Please just listen to me speak.
Stop The Bully
You always will live on
No matter how far away you are
You are in a better place now
Flying with the angels in the clouds
I know you had so much stress
Just felt like it was exploding in your chest
You didn’t have to take your own life
You could of tried to make the bullying right
I guess all we have left is the memories
Never will that bring enough peace
You could of lived on to be 103
But you left your friends and family
I know you had so much pain
It always flowed through all of your veins
You didn’t have to take your own life
You could of tried to make the bullying right
You should have been able to be who you are
You were filled with so many scars
You weren’t ever different to me
You were just a boy who wanted peace
I’m glad you found relief
And that you found the peace
But you should of stayed here with me
And we could of tried to stop the bullies.
Use To Be
I miss the way it use to be
When I was something more to me
Now I’m treated so differently
Whys that gotta be
I’ve always just been me
I don’t wanna cry these tears anymore
These fears are making me so sore
I really need something to believe in
I’m tired of being nothing to them
I miss the way it use to be
When I was something more to me
Now I’m treated so differently
Whys that gotta be
I’ve always just been me
Why can’t you all treat me equally
I know that’s how its gotta be
It doesn’t have to be destiny
I just wanna be more to me
I miss the way it use to be
When I was something more to me
Now I’m treated so differently
Whys that gotta be
I’ve always just been me
I don’t wanna have these scars anymore
Now I’m gonna be something more
I deserve to be happy
Now that’s who I am to me.
Submitted by a fourteen year old TYEF youth
M2F Guuurl
The sun continues
To rise everymorning,
And the moon rises,
Everynight
It happens without fail,
And the stars,
Or the clouds,
Follow along
It doesn't matter,
Whether my day
Has been great
Or if it has been horrible
The sun is still there
In the morning
And the moon
At night
This is my favorite constant
For when either appears,
I feel protected and safe,
For those hours of day or night.
Poems by Athena Edmonds, a published poet and mom to a beautiful transboy
Gender’s Waiting Room
Samantha Phippen Morgan,
dressed in cargo pants, hiking boots,
and a camo shirt. Serviceman
in the elevator, What a cute boy,
he says. Saleslady at CVS,
With those eyes you’ll break
ladies’ hearts, she says.
Drycleaner behind the counter,
Boy or girl, she asks; beautiful
eyelashes but boy pants confuse her.
Boy or girl, I ask. But you refuse
to answer. Instead, you bang and bang
your head against the counter.
Late at night you sit on my lap.
You ask me, Are my eyes beautiful?
They are, they are, I say.
And you ask me, Are my eyelashes beautiful?
They are, they are, I say.
Then I’m going to need to cut them off, you say.
Last Dress
Published in Sugar House Review, Winter 2011
I jam
the white
smock dress
over your head.
Limp
marionette,
silent
in your dissent –
you crumble
in your father’s arms,
acquiescing
as I fasten the pearl buttons.
Girls
Published in January 2010 edition of Connotation Press
Daddies’ girls, mommies’ girls, valley girls,
slutty girls, and girl virgins. Lip-ringed
lisping girls. Girls with names of goddesses,
names of months, days and flowers. Girls
with names of jewels, fruits, and virtues.
Girls who rule the slide rule. Girls who can
battle boys in a beat on the beat on both
drums and guitar on Rock Band. Girls that
bond in bands named MalakAss. Girls that
sprint in the first heat of the Nationals in the
royal blue and white of the Greek flag. Girls
in flip flops in February, scuffed Uggs in
July. Why? Girls who sneak to the prom,
their prom gown in a stop&shop brown bag.
Freaking out both mom and dad. Girls
who dye their hair from Manic Panic Cotton
Candy Pink to Manic Panic Bad Boy Blue
leaving Angry Purple streaks behind on my
bathtub. Girls who love horses and White
Horse, Grey Goose and grey geese, Beefeater
and steak, Wild Turkey and Thanksgiving
break. Girls in strings under juicy sweats,
flying Chihuahuas in Chewy V-ton handbags.
I try, I do. I try to put it all behind me, to put
it in the past. Why must I weep and mourn my
fourth, when my older three should be enough?
I need to let it be! Her name cut in half, her
brush in the trash, her wiry body performs a
roundhouse kick in martial arts; the art of her
body practiced, her affect deliberate, her nature
scorned, her cool-dude style, by all, adored.
Here’s your Spyder blue jacket. Here’s your
robot decorated room, the pattern you chose
from the catalog’s boy section, your Lego
Jedi Starfighter and your black Nintendo.
Put it in your holster.
Everywhere you go, your disguises reek of
testosterone. On EBay I auctioned off your
sisters’ dresses — like you asked me to. In
the basement I dug up your sisters’ Barbies
and stuffed them in the trash. Along with
Barbie’s Mustang, Barbie’s Fashion Fever
Store, and her pal, Polly Pocket. Polly
Pocket and her Polly Mall, her Polly World,
her Polly Mansion. When Barbie’s Three
Story Townhouse didn’t fit in the three-ply
yard-size Hefty garbage bag I grabbed your
father’s hammer and smashed it against the
concrete floor. Then it fit.
It would’ve been worse if you’d ended up
like those other kinds of girls I know. Sour
girls, girls that look sweet but taste bitter,
girls who chew gum with their mouths
aghast. Girls that twizzle under pressure but
then burst into the scene like stars. Kit-Katty
girls, S & M’s, Smarties and girl Nerds.
Girls who snicker at boys but skittle at their
touch. Girls who’ve been caramelized under
high pressure, hardened into brittle toffee,
pounded into taffy, powdered by the fist
who when jelly in the belly, don’t let the gun
drop – which gets them locked up for life
saved behind bars.
I hope if I rant and vent like this, I’ll get with
the program. I’ve learned to see you, to talk
to you without your pronoun, without the tail
end to your name, without a role expectation.
I’ve learned to let you be, to advocate at your
school, to befriend other boys’ mothers, to pro-
vide ultimatums to my mother, to blackmail your
father’s mother, to threaten your father with
divorce, and to tell my sister-in-law to fuck off.
It’s me, love, I’ve learned to be your mother.