There’s a gross pink skirt in my closet.
Last worn in August,
it swings on a plastic hanger,
dangles all pale and pretty above my favorite trousers—
the wildly androgynous ones.
There’s a gross pink skirt in my closet
that left red marks on my stomach,
bunched my skin, and suffocated my kidneys.
Pale blue and yellow roses scatter the fabric
that reminds me I’m an object.
There’s a gross pink skirt in my closet.
A byproduct of the male gaze,
much like me,
it sways back and forth and tickles my forehead
as I reach for anything that will scream she-they-and-gay.
There’s a gross pink skirt in my closet
It serves as an artifact from the times
I didn’t know how to dress.
It brings back all those days I forced mysef to be femme,
suck in and smile,
cross my legs and sit straight.
There’s a gross pink skirt in my closet
that I don’t wear anymore
but can’t seem to get rid of.
Part of me knows boys would like that skirt on me.
Part of me is still convinced I need their approval.
Halianna Leland is a junior at the Albuquerque Academy in New Mexico. They foster a passion for writing both creatively and journalistically. A young queer woman, writer, and black belt in karate, Halie believes in telling raw stories in beautiful ways. Their work has been published locally in Other Voices Literary Magazine, The Advocate News Site, and received recognition in the Scholastic Art & Writing Awards.