gender binary v1

[alsayn]

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. 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.

I've pretty much finished it, and uploaded an audio version as well. The audio quality is a bit terrible because of the location I was in, and the recording made my voice MUCH more monotone than it had actually been (this was recorded off a performance). Hopefully it still helps for critique.

gender binary audio v1

“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 than pink and blue.
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 pink as red, she tells me,
but just enough that it counts.
The days she wears dresses are special occasions, short skirts are a celebration,
make-up is worship.
I watch her line lipstick rows on her vanity like candlesticks on the altar
of the perfect girl she never wanted to be.
Most days, she wears jeans like battle armor; her binder is a bulletproof vest
deflecting catcalls and whistles with a chainmail made of cotton and elastic, because
she is not girl enough to love,
she is not girl enough to marry,
she is only girl enough to fuck.

My classmate is yellow,
he likes to say that he was there when the prism created the primary colours,
third wheel on the colour wheel when red and blue fell in love
he has no place in their family tree.
If a binary is a system of two parts,
he is writing his own code.

My other friend is green,
they don’t know what that means yet—

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
in limited edition colors of
bruise blue,
neglect black,
disgust green.
When we were sixteen, she signed it in artery red,
her skin caved like drywall.
Today, she isn’t pink anymore,
she is mental hospital white, and conversion therapy grey,
she smells like drying paint and her hands are so cold.

If gender is a rainbow,
then I am the rain,
the prism,
I am transparent,
refracting your glory
smearing your variety across the sky.
I am structured,
crystalline,
a means to your end
but I am not welcome in your illusion.

[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!

[alsayn]

the rainbow has more colors that pink and blue. Should "that", be "than"?

Ah yes, typos, my favourite thing on this earth. Thank you for the catch!

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.

I'm having a bit of a difficult time with this part because yeah, technically the way the poem (and gender stereotype, sort of) is set up is that pink is female and blue is male, and doesn't really leave room for red (which, you're right, is seen as more masculine, but is also the parent colour of pink). However, I pulled this line directly from what my friend told me. Her point, as I understand it, is that's she's slightly less girly than standard, seeing as how orange is heading down the scale away from red/pink. So yeah, "not quite as pink as red" will work much better than what I had. I think I got a bit turned around!

The days she wears dresses are special occasions, short skirts are a celebration,
make-up is worship. What is she worshiping, and why?

....That is an excellent question. Again, something I'll have to ask her to fill in for me. This part of the stanza could use a bit of fleshing out, anyway.

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.

In this case, the binder in question is one like this: http://www.gc2b.co/#!store/c205c/collections/all/1, used to flatten breasts for a more androgynous/masculine appearance, not a binder like to store files in. When worn, it looks a bit like a bulletproof vest, and is typically made of some relatively tough material. Sorry for the confusion!

he is writing his own code. Is "he" the she from the first stanza?

No, I should have clarified, since this stanza is unfinished! Each stanza is a separate person, hopefully going down the rainbow with a person per colour. This person is separate from the others (and will hopefully have their stanza finished at some point.....)

He witnessed it in bruise blue, Maybe "signed it" instead of witnessed it?

Thanks! Witnessed is such an awkward word there, I was thinking something along the lines of how legal contracts require a witness sometimes, since I use "signed" later in that stanza.

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.

You're right! I like it much better further down. I'll add that in my revision.

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"?

See, here I wasn't sure. The person in question is already playing on being two colours at once, or bouncing between the two, that I thought it might work. Also, there's the fact that she was both in a mental institution for a bit and underwent conversion therapy. The way I figured it, the pink and blue options were replaced by white and grey? Does that make sense?


Thank you so much for all your help!

[Todd]

Hi Aurelia, welcome to the site! I read the comments below so won't call out the typos. I think you have something good you're working with. Here are some comments for you:

You have an opportunity to mix this up a little you've got the color metaphor going. Pink, blue, rainbow are all good for a spoken piece, they are fairly loaded with social connotations (which is both good and bad) Good because they save setup time, bad because they can encourage you not to dig deeper.

I'd encourage you to consider slipping in some sort of other binary imagery just to layer the vignettes. We flip a coin think it has to be heads or tails. Sometimes it lands on the edge. Sometimes it just spins. (just an example of what I mean). 

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.
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,
but just enough that it counts.
The days she wears dresses are special occasions, short skirts are a celebration, 
make-up is worship.--Maybe expand the priestly worship tone "dresses are vestments" etc
Most days, she wears jeans like battle armor; her binder is a bulletproof vest.--binder saying what she writes.
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.

My other friend is green,
they don’t know what that means yet—--I think this should be moved down below purple. It works as a stark break before your final strophe.
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,--Nice simile. This should be a period instead of a comma.
He witnessed it in bruise blue, --These next three lines bruise to disgust would be stronger if you could make them more like the nursery line--draw them out a little more. 
neglect black,
disgust green,
her skin caves like drywall.--Nice image
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,
she smells like drying paint and her hands are so cold.--I think if you reverse this line it might thematically tie into the poem better. "Her hands are so cold and she smells like drying paint." Its debatable, but I think paint is the better end word.


Possible working title, maybe "Brushstrokes"

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

I hope some of that helps. 

Best,

Todd

[billy]

omg it's wonderful, i love it to bits, brilliantly beautiful: yeah we tend not to do that here hi aurelia and welcome to the site.

oops might have been a good title for the piece.
the last line before you're [ending about me] etc does the trick for me as an end-line. i have no suggestion about the [cc33ff] lines. at present it feels a little dispassionate. it also reads like it wants to leap out and accost the senses. [which it doesn't do apart from the bruised blue lines] maybe a couple of powerful stanza like that would lift it out from the page a bit more. (not too much though) but keep it balanced. maybe more personal [if that's possible] the extended metaphor of colour as gender representation is done really well, i also like how you use it as an emotional image

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. [than] not [that] i think
If she is pink,
and he is blue,
every color in between is not purple.” the opening stanza works well enough to show what the poem is going to be about, i liked the restricted colour scheme specially the purple line
I have this friend who is orange, is [i have] needed? it feels like filler [a friend who is orange]
not quite as red as pink, she tells me,
but just enough that it counts.
The days she wears dresses are special occasions, short skirts are a celebration,
make-up is worship.
Most days, she wears jeans like battle armor; her binder is a bulletproof vest.
She is not girl enough to love, would these 3 line stand better on in their own stanza?
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.
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 love the schizophrenic feel of this stanza, the repetition of purple also works well as an underlying punchline.
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, this and the next 4 lines paint a colourful hurt [no pun intended]
neglect black,
disgust green,
her skin caves like drywall.
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,
she smells like drying paint and her hands are so cold.
Ending about me?? Ending about them?? Ending???

[alsayn]

I'd encourage you to consider slipping in some sort of other binary imagery just to layer the vignettes. We flip a coin think it has to be heads or tails. Sometimes it lands on the edge. Sometimes it just spins. (just an example of what I mean). 

I added a bit more binary imagery in the yellow stanza. Is that along the lines of what you meant?

The days she wears dresses are special occasions, short skirts are a celebration, 
make-up is worship.--Maybe expand the priestly worship tone "dresses are vestments" etc

Done(-ish)! I'm not sure if I've extended it enough, honestly, but going more into that metaphor might be more distracting than it's worth?

Most days, she wears jeans like battle armor; her binder is a bulletproof vest.--binder saying what she writes.

I probably should have cleared this up, but I mean "binder" as in the kind used to bind down breasts, not to write in. Or did you mean to also include a line emphasizing the double definition of breast binder/writing binder? (Does that make sense? It made sense in my head.)

My other friend is green,
they don’t know what that means yet—--I think this should be moved down below purple. It works as a stark break before your final strophe.

I posted up the audio version because I'm not sure where the green stanza would fit. On the one hand, so far the poem has been going down the rainbow (barring pink/red and blue). On the other, you're right, and it does make for a good break.

He painted it onto her nursery walls like a contract,--Nice simile. This should be a period instead of a comma.

Fixed!

He witnessed it in bruise blue, --These next three lines bruise to disgust would be stronger if you could make them more like the nursery line--draw them out a little more. 

I tried to do that and couldn't quite figure out how to make it work with the nursery room theme without sounding weird and clunky. Do you have any suggestions?

she is mental hospital white, and conversion therapy grey,
she smells like drying paint and her hands are so cold.--I think if you reverse this line it might thematically tie into the poem better. "Her hands are so cold and she smells like drying paint." Its debatable, but I think paint is the better end word.

Again, maybe it might sound better in the audio version, because my voice catches strangely when I've swapped them around like you suggested. (But maybe it's just me.

---

omg it's wonderful, i love it to bits, brilliantly beautiful: yeah we tend not to do that here hi aurelia and welcome to the site.

oops might have been a good title for the piece.
the last line before you're [ending about me] etc does the trick for me as an end-line. i have no suggestion about the [cc33ff] lines. at present it feels a little dispassionate. it also reads like it wants to leap out and accost the senses. [which it doesn't do apart from the bruised blue lines] maybe a couple of powerful stanza like that would lift it out from the page a bit more. (not too much though) but keep it balanced. maybe more personal [if that's possible] the extended metaphor of colour as gender representation is done really well, i also like how you use it as an emotional image

I uploaded the audio version with the updated poem. Does it sounds less dispassionate when actually spoken? (I'm trying to figure out if the lack of passion comes from the medium or from the actual writing.) Also, I'm trying to make it a bit more personal with the ending about me, and also going back and quizzing my folk for more info for their stanzas.

[spherical]

Ah, I can't tell you how much I enjoyed this piece. I feel a bit awful admitting this, but I tend to get bored reading a lot of other people's work but I was completely engrossed reading yours.

Someone said "Can she be both white and grey at once. Maybe "she is mental hospital white, or conversion therapy grey"? " and - pardon my critique of their critique - I think they missed the point entirely.

Best to you. I would love to see more of your work.