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Introducing Andrea Lee

by Andrea Lee

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    This is a collection of poems all about my personal experience with gender and coming out as trans. If you are for any reason unable to afford the album, and especially if you are a trans teen or kid, send me a message through this bandcamp and I'll send you a copy. This is about reaching people, not making money
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1.
I sort out my thoughts through my poetry In them, I am living more authentically I do not expect to for people to change today But I am taking the name Andrea, and pronoun they I do not know where this journey will end But whether you are a stranger, family, or friend I would like you to join me on a poetic journey As I figure out who I am supposed to be I don't expect to be a spoken word star But when I look back at my life this far I would like to use my talent for words To say the things I wish I could have heard And teach trans people that it's ok to be you And maybe learn that it's ok to be me, too
2.
If a stranger asked me what I do with my life I’d say that I’m studying computer science. But if you asked me what I’ve done with my life Above all, I’d point to my poetry The disconnect between what I am doing And what I am most proud of Makes me question my future A feeling I’ve gotten used to I’ve been living the last few months without even a real name So it's only really a minor speedbump That I probably picked the wrong field of study But the key to writing good poetry Lays more in my ability than it does in pursuing a degree But I could make this into my life’s journey I am privileged enough to have been given the ability To use my words with reasonable clarity But you cannot write an emotionless poem Art requires joy, and it requires sorrow And where one goes, the other will follow And often, my poems are windows into my soul Used to drag out thoughts I never knew were mine I never feel more authentic than I do when baring My troubles in front of people who see themselves In some small part, of the story I tell Whether it's in the unsteady, shaking leg, A nervous tic granted by genetic chance, My muscles cursed forever to betray my mind Or in that mind. Racing, never still Always wondering What next, what next, oh god, what next? Speeding towards the perceived certainty Of its own failure to be apart of this society I stop. I’m not wrong, I hope. It better be society Otherwise, what can I ever be? I know that I’m right but I know I’m not right inside Forever plagued by thoughts of disaster Racing away from a pain that cannot be traced to one specific incident but no less real A feeling, forever, of disbelonging Never fitting the expectations of those around me But when I write, people understand me Saying that that my words have made a difference And if my words are already making a difference What else can I do to contribute to society not monetarily But by making something of a truer reality In the heart, and the mind My logical brain must accept that this matters For the intangible impact is far greater Than the one that can be measured. Am I willing to be paid in kind words from strangers? Is knowing that I touched a heart Worth a loss of supposed productivity A very different life from the one I once planned to lead But already, it is rushing towards me This is what makes me stand proud, I live for those 5 second interactions, the awkward intimacy of the post show thank you Where two lives acknowledge That they have walked the same roads I can remember every one clearly Keeping a mental list of people who have thanked me Reminding me that helping their lives make mine matter And sometimes I daydream, thinking maybe one day My poetry could save a life And that idea, is worth giving up everything. But realizing that I have that desire To help, to nurture, to save Reminds me that I’m not as bad of a person As I let myself believe that I am So yes, maybe one day, my poems save a life But its very well that life could be mine
3.
The Binary 02:36
Being trans is celebrated in a person As a series of before and after pictures Showing a progression from what they were To what they are becoming Ignoring the fact that to them That’s what they’ve always been. My gender is preceded by the word identity As I explain to people. That I feel like a both girl and a guy, yet neither . I identify. I feel. Never “I am” These carefully chosen words I use To justify my existence not just to cis people but to members of our own community that claim I am not trans enough because I don’t hate having a penis. I do not identify with a gender I am my gender My pronouns, are not a preference And my name. I give you the privilege to speak it And if my gender doesn’t make sense to you, then get in line, because I puzzled over it first Every day is an exploration Of who I am and what I want to be It’s ironic that as someone non binary I spend so much of my life coding I suppose it’s a type of therapy Computers depend on logical thinking There is no room for these feelings. Because as much as I know that I’m queer I know that it would be easier Were there no doubt about who I am Were the world as simple And as black and white As the 0s and 1s which Comprise the code that I write Their very shape representative Of the biological boxes we try to escape Arbitrary separators that ignore the fact That there are a million numbers between 0 and 1 And 7 billion genders between male and female I see gender more like a favorite color You cannot explain color except in terms of other colors And this world is still insisting that everything is pink and blue And I am not saying just that my favorite color is purple But that color is an indistinguishable spectrum And maybe my concept of orange is your blood red So why do we keep trying to sort people into these boxes? Even through metaphor, we see pink as a gay color Why are we so obsessed with making everyone Not just pick between two options But pick the right one based on what the general area of your pelvis looks like I get it society, the bits down there are fun to play with But if you still can’t understand that this cisgender system is harming my sisters and brothers Then maybe you need to stop and think If the ability to know someone’s genitals by looking at them Is really more important than the lives being lost Because if you still don’t see why this matters Then I want you to own up to your opinions Look me in the eye and tell me That you don’t see me as a person That your discomfort is worth more than my life Even knowing that there is a 41% chance That I will die by my own hand Leelah’s name is not written on her tombstone And if I died today I wonder what would be on mine
4.
Why Andrea? 01:43
The answer to the question no one is blunt enough to ask. Why Andrea? Such a simple change. Just a switched letter. Down and left on the keyboard. Rolling off the tongue. Similar enough to not confuse, easy to explain. Andrew is now Andrea. Oh, HE’s trans? They’ll say But my birth name is just a coincidence. Happening to lay so near to the name of the person I was always destined to become. Inspired by the person who has shaped so much of who I am. Their name, Andrea, their way of expressing, poetry. Their words, part of the reason I am even still alive. I too was halfway through a letter to my own mother When their lines returned to my mind Their reminder, through poems, other people feel this too. And their idea, that I can live as my own example And if I can just give one person another reason to live Then that’s enough, and my debt will be repaid To the ones that refused to let me leave and who I can no longer properly thank So instead, I thank Andrea, and do it with pride Saying yes, this, them, this is who I’m like theoretically unrestrained by the society’s boxes Yet still able to feel their crushing pressure Which we can only relieve with the outlet of our poetry I would gladly drop everything I have If I thought that my poems could make half the difference That theirs have to me. But where would I start? Tumblr and open mic nights Are a far cry from a career in poetry There is no training in becoming a shaper of words Adequate enough to test whether I could “make it”. Sure, I’m a decent poet, but where is the line between notes and a bit of applause, and something much bigger? Maybe I make this my passion And hope that one day, fire catches. Their words, truly shaping who I am Just as they always have
5.
I am transgender, and when I first read this poem, I had never spoken those words out loud before in my life Even now, after multiple coming out talks With people that I know will support me I lack the conviction in my identity That I wish I had I’ve discussed the topic often, But I always try to cushion the idea, explaining to my mom that I am discussing in therapy The slight possibility that I might be trans. Language chosen carefully to hide the fact That this is not possibility, but reality I am trans. And I am fucking terrified I can count on one hand the number of times I have dressed in public in a way that would suggest that I am anything other than a cisgender male. Yet when I am asked the question “where do you see yourself in 5 years” I can’t picture a future in which I can keep up this facade not upset by the cliche of my body, But by the gender role into which I am so easily sorted Never questioning what was between my legs But instead wondering why I identified so strongly With a gender that I still do not feel like I have the right to claim as my own Knowing as I tell him, though he’ll never admit it That I have just broken my father’s heart Not because he doesn’t know what this means But precisely because he understands That in this society, I have just exposed myself to hate And every father just wants to protect his child Yet at the same time, I recognize the incredible privilege I have That I worried about whether my parents would respect my pronouns Rather than whether or not they would continue to shelter me And that might seem like hyperbole But speaks of a very real trans reality In which peace, not violence, is out of the ordinary I know in my heart that I want to transition. But due to my indecision I don't know if I ever will. After all it took me 5 years just to pierce my ears Afraid of giving away that I do not conform to the notions of masculinity that have long been imposed on me But gender is not, and should never be Defined by one’s body And transition is not a destination But a lifelong journey that is still full of danger at every turn My gender is not the one that I was assigned at birth And that means I am transgender

about

Introducing Andrea Lee is my first EP album, consisting of 5 poems. These are all about coming out as trans and how I identify. It will release on or before March 1st. The price is $4.10 in recognition of the fact that 41% of trans people attempt suicide. All proceeds from this album will go towards transition related things such as makeup and clothes for myself.

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released March 1, 2016

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Andrea Lee Bethlehem, Pennsylvania

Andrea Lee Plank is a spoken word poet / computer geek living in Bethlehem, PA. Andrea identifies as a nonbinary transgirl and uses they / them pronouns. They are attending Northampton Community College.

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