Dysphoria

The perspective of a cis female, attempting to describe what she thinks of dysphoria.

I was thinking of dysphoria today.

It’s one of those weird things, you know the type?

The one that you know and understand but will never understand

The concept you get but never fully grasp

I think I might have gotten a grasp.

Girls, run your hands down from the base of your throat, down over your chest

Or, at the very least, imagine doing that

Feel, or imagine feeling, the bump of your breasts

Soft, supple, beneath your palms

Maybe you wish for them to be larger--have you ever stuffed your bra?
Have you ever stuffed your bra, then throughout the day gotten startled by the size?

It was a pleasant startle,

Sometimes a bit self conscious because you think it’s too noticeable.

Now imagine that there’s nothing there when you run your hands down

Imagine that every time you move you feel the lack of them

Imagine that every time you look even slightly to the side your eyes are drawn to lack of them

Imagine that your waist doesn’t go in

Imagine that your hips don’t go out

Imagine that your chest is too thick but your breasts are gone

Boys, imagine if instead of a straight line down your waist curved in

Imagine your hips swelled out and everything is too slim,

Except for these things that are on your chest and your rear that just doesn’t fit on your body

Imagine each time you move your arm will brush against a breast that shouldn’t be there

Imagine a hand that’s too delicate

Imagine something that’s not between your legs when you shift in your seat

Imagine each time that this happens your heart spikes for a split second until you remember:

“That’s right.”

Imagine that tightening of your lungs, that jolt of your chest, that panic rising in your throat every hour of your day every minute of your day every second of your day it’s right there reminding you that something isn’t right this isn’t right you are not right until you remember that nothing is wrong because this is how you were born.

That moment of remembrance, that never comes soon enough to quell the panic.

That moment of remembrance, that never stops the panic.

Imagine that society calls you by a name that you don’t feel is right

Imagine that each time it is called you don’t look behind you until it is called again and again and oh it’s you they’re trying to get the attention of

Imagine the drop in your stomach every time they laugh because you didn’t look and the heat in your cheeks all while your body is not right it’s not right it’s not-

Right

There’s nothing you can do to fix it, even if you tell them some won’t respect you and there’s nothing you can do about your body it’s surrounding you it’s a tumor it’s not correct it is you and there’s nothing you can do to fix it, not yet even if you tell them they want you to wait you need to think rationally you’re not old enough you’re not smart enough you don’t know who you are do some soul searching pray or something just don’t do this it’s going to destroy you it’s going to be a mistake it’s going to ruin your life

I think that’s how it feels

I think because I don’t, because I’m a cis female that doesn’t even slightly align herself out of the nice pretty little box with laces and bows of femininity

This is my best guess, that causes my chest to ache and my breath to increase

God help those who don’t have to guess

Author's Note

I have a genderfluid friend who confirmed the accuracy of this but it's not about that. This is about how I think this feels, even though I have no actual insight beyond my own imagination. (I'm also mad about the categorization but Gay & Lesbian was the closest I could find).