I am in second grade I have the biggest crush on my teacher He is kind and nice In my seven-year-old eyes he is the smartest person When he asks us to color in a picture with our favorite color My page is covered in greens and blue and reds and- I use every crayon in the box My teach comes over He frowns and asks me to pick one color I tell him I like all the colors He tells me every color can’t be my favorite He is the smartest person I know He must be right My little teddy bear heart breaks I am in sixth grade We have to interview each other One of the questions asked What is your favorite color I happily answer all of them My partner frowns at me You have to pick one I tell him I like all the colors the same On the paper he writes down blue Says I can borrow his favorite color It is kind But still feels like I am lying Good intentions It still feels like something is being stolen from me I am in eighth grade We have to write an essay about who we are They ask us to include our favorite things Including our favorite color My paper is perfect At least to me It is twice as long as asked to be I’m sure my teacher will love it When she reads it she frowns Hands it back Tells me I did it incorrectly I have to pick one favorite I grow tired of people frowning at me I sigh and write down blue I guess I’ll share that color afterall I start telling people my favorite color is blue Less explaining that way Less fighting to validate myself that way Less people frowning at me that way Fast forward to college It is pride week Rainbows litter my vision I already know who I am sexuality wise Here I am allowed to like all the colors We fill out a forum To introduce ourselves Under favorite color I write color wheel They smile Ask me if I meant rainbow Without meaning to they are still asking me to pick The rainbow doesn’t have all the colors Seafoam green Golden brown It doesn’t hold the color of sunlight reflecting on grass Doesn’t have the color of clouds against the moon I try to find the words to explain this I can’t find them So I cross out my answer and write rainbow I was taught to pick From an early age I was taught only certain shades mattered I was taught that people who could pick were better Pick a color You can’t like them all Pick a label You have too many Pick a gender Stop being selfish I’ve been trained to pick I’ve picked until I lost myself Not anymore My favorite color is the color wheel My sexuality is my own As is my gender I will not pick I will not give away parts of myself Because not only do I like all the colors I am all the colors
“Color Wheel” (or How I figured out I was genderfluid)
Stella Seibert
(via dreaming-of–a-different-reality)
















