gender binary v1

[Wjames]

Hello, everyone! I'm Aurelia, and (shocking, I know) new to the forum. It took a bit of searching to find someplace that offered solid critique instead of platitudes, and it looks like this is the place!

A bit of a preface: I'm a spoken word/slam poet, which is why my poetry seems very scattered and.....odd on paper. If it's easier, I can always submit an audio version if it helps the critique. Also, it's been four long years since I've written anything, so I'm a bit shit.

This isn't finished yet, I'm missing a couple stanzas. Ignore the purple, those are just my notes.

“The gender binary,” someone once told me,
“is not a binary at all, in that a)
a binary is a system composed of two parts, and b)
the rainbow has more colors that pink and blue. Should "that", be "than"?
If she is pink,
and he is blue,
every color in between is not purple.”

I have this friend who is orange,
not quite as red as pink, she tells me, If pink and blue are the two extremes on this spectrum, why not have it "not quite as pink as red"? Or maybe "not quite as pink as yellow", because red is probably more masculine than orange.
but just enough that it counts.
The days she wears dresses are special occasions, short skirts are a celebration,
make-up is worship. What is she worshiping, and why?
Most days, she wears jeans like battle armor; her binder is a bulletproof vest. Why is her binder a bulletproof vest? Does she write in a binder to ease her mind or something? The connection isn't clear to me.
She is not girl enough to love,
she is not girl enough to marry,
she is only girl enough to fuck.

Yellow something something something
Primary colors not red or blue not anything in between
If a binary is a system of two parts,
he is writing his own code. Is "he" the she from the first stanza?

My other friend is green,
they don’t know what that means yet—
Maybe flesh this out, I dunno, but they don’t know either and not everyone is certain about gender so???

My neighbor is purple,
some days she is magenta
some days he is periwinkle
Purple is not pink or blue,
no matter how much their mother tells them to just pick one.

I knew someone who was pink—
no, blue
no, pink
no, blue
Because that is the only color her father told her she could be
He painted it onto her nursery walls like a contract,
He witnessed it in bruise blue, Maybe "signed it" instead of witnessed it?
neglect black,
disgust green,
her skin caves like drywall. This line reads like a separate sentence to the preceding list. It's more connected to the following cutting sentence in my eyes.
When we were sixteen, she signed it in artery red.
Today, she isn’t pink anymore,
she is mental hospital white, and conversion therapy grey, Can she be both white and grey at once. Maybe "she is mental hospital white, or conversion therapy grey"?
she smells like drying paint and her hands are so cold.

Ending about me?? Ending about them?? Ending???

Just some of my thoughts as I read your poem. Thanks for sharing, and welcome to the site!