I WAS A CLOSET WOMAN

I chopped off my hair and wore it in a crewcut,
like a truck driver,
like a marine,
like an adolescent boy.
I didn't want anyone to find out
that I was a closet woman.

What if they found out I was a woman?
They might make me act like Tipper Gore,
like Zsa Zsa Gabor,
like Mary -Mother of God. Oh God.
I might have to bake cherry pies
with smiley faces on them.
I might have to work for 59 cents on the dollar.
I might have to bleed.

Yes, I was a closet woman.
I wore baggy jeans to hide my legs and Army boots to hide my feet.
What if they found out I had sexy legs?
They might make me cover them with leg warmers,
with nylon stockings, with Nair.
What if they found out I had women's feet?
Some nellie queen might try to put spike heels on them.

I was a closet woman.
I wore a black leather jacket to cover up my tits.
What if they found out I had tits?
Some weird baby might try to suck on one.
Some strange doctor might want to cut one off.
Teenage boys might yell at me on the streets:
"Hey you! You've got - tits!"

I got fat so they wouldn't know I was a woman.
I got skinny so they wouldn't know.
I became a man. I became a dyke
so I could be as powerful as a man.
I became gay so I could march in a parade.
I became outraged because I kept letting They define me.
I became - a woman. I became a woman.
I became - myself.