LGBTQ+ Poem: Boy, by Sofia Infante Roca

Masculinity – noun
“the social roles, attitudes, and expectations considered
appropriate for men”

The idea of a man is a construction
Built from ever-lasting empires
Forged into iron swords and shields to
withstand all battles
They are created strong and protective
Masculinity is their cloak, their armor
And I know I was not clothed with the same fabric

Where a man’s skin is metal, mine is wooden
Nicked and scrapped
Shaped easily
The more curves I gain,
My figure is seen as – less
A puppet, strung on a stage
For your viewing
For your convenience
Because who I am can not be understood easily
But I’m not some piece of wood
or a puppet
Once you know me, you’ll see
I’m a human
I’m a boy

A boy with the hips of a dancer
Hugging dresses with childhood joy.
Heels tapping away to the sound of songs.
Wearing makeup because he likes to look pretty
I am a boy who ties his hair back,
wishing it was shorter
messy, in a handsome kind of way
A boy who is alienated,
because masculinity is not a blanket I wear
Not an image I express often

Sometimes, by choice
But other times by force
An inner war where trying to comply is easier,
than following the steps of those fighting the same demons,
The same perpetrators,
The same mirrors,
telling us we are wrong,
That I – was made – wrong

They preach it so easily,
To my face, in my ear
Caring not for how their comments cut my skin.
Every uttered “she” or “girl”
Becoming knives digging into wood,
Cracking the façade.
no matter how much I try,
They will never believe I am a real boy.

Those who do,
will tell me I must change.
Preaching it will ONLY take scars
It will ONLY take drugs injected into my muscle
That will BLEED from my palms
Shed from my mangled chest

Spill from my guts

I have – to be rough around the edges
Revoke the vulnerability – that womanhood
Has woven into my form.
Be cold at heart, fall in line with the system.
To survive and avoid harm at the hands of oppression,
I MUST become the IMAGE of the oppressor.

I can only ever “want” to be a boy,
never actually be seen as one.
I’ll never wield the metal they carry
Or be built from empires
Or be cloaked with the same armor
Society has not built me

Which is why I’m building myself.
My own wood stronger and flexible, shaped to my desire.
I will build my empire
I will open my heart,
That bleeds the kindness shunned by others
That sheds the tears forbidden for others
I am not a puppet but this is MY stage
And I’ll let out my voice and say
I am a real boy

with a big chest and bigger heart
A boy who likes playing guitar at night,
a boy who likes books where people like him
get their promised happy endings
And I’m a boy who gets stressed,
and happy
And emotional.

But before all of that,
I am a person.
My boyhood is not exclusive to my humanity.
And nothing you say, or think,
Could ever change that