Pride is a time for celebration, and we continue to work towards equality and overcoming barriers to representation and inclusion through our university strategy.
We recognise that there is more to be done to achieve cultural change for inclusion across the university community and ensure that the university is itself a vehicle for positive social change.
At the Trans w/rites event earlier this year, our students presented their new writing celebrating the exciting and progressive realities of trans life. Their work also stimulated discussion of the experiences of trans and gender non-conforming students and how they can be supported as part of the university community.
Here we celebrate these students and their work, and raise awareness of everything they evoke and urge through their writing.
Transform
By Klaus
My mum told me that I am a sunset,
My coals, my wounds, they don’t define my worth.
But I was gorgeous once, and was content,
Yes, I was life, vitality and birth.
My father said, ‘my child, please don’t change’, but,
My father, that is out of my power,
Like you, I too shall take damage and hurt,
To know that I could have been a flower
But never will be. Pain is what I know.
I watch you hurt over what I can’t stop.
My family, you’re torn, more than me, so
Why am I the blame, the dark, in the wrong?
You told me that I was your sunset, well,
That shouldn’t change if I’m a boy or girl.
MoonBeam
By Sirius
People frequently ask me “Why are you like this?”
The simple answer? I was born and now I am living.
The one littered with pain and complexities does not reach the average ear.
In truth, I am a grey cloud.
I was born in the dark, forged in secrecy and deception,
And like that which made me, I live in the shadows.
Desperate to become a sundrop,
To one day feel the courage to shout “This is Me!”
But life is not long for the sundrop.
So instead let me become a moonbeam.
Allow me to wear my hair past my shoulders like a lion's mane,
I could paint my nails the colour of my despair,
Lower my voice so my words disappear like seafoam,
And I could climb a tree.
Each branch another mountain between me and myself
And from the top no one can tell if you’re falling or jumping.
As I grip the tree bark with both hands and dangle I wonder.
If I were to let go, who would you cry out for?
When you lay this body down for the final time, who will I be?
Will you cradle my face like some precious crystal,
Your tears mending all of my rough edges,
And then speak my name?
Or is the name you will speak Someone already close to dead?
The sundrop is proud, but moonbeam’s taste like safety.
I could never fight for who I am,
But I’ll shield those who do between the crevice of my clavicles.
I’ll wear my mane and paint like defiance,
A silent rebellion against that which previously confined me,
And I will smile in spite of every single reason not to.
Grin at every ‘it’ thrown my way, laugh at the sound of your disdain,
I’ll plant myself into a willow tree to protect all who can’t.
I am like this because the world was not bright enough for my kind to survive.
And so for them, I’m afraid I have to.
Prometheus
By Alex
i want to redo myself/ and by redo/ i mean/ pick the skin from
my face until/ i touch wet muscle/ and tear through that/ until i touch bone/ and take the hammer/ to my face/ until i can no longer remember/ if i am the nail/ or the wood/ which to the
hammer/ looks like the same thing/ i want to carve/ a new
history/ into the soft landing/ of my arms/ and a new mouth/
into my face/ with this unholy-holy gun/ i want to be prometheus/ and press my hands/ into the flame/ just to know what/ the warmth
of another person/ could possibly feel like/ i want the eagles tangled/ in my guts/ to pull me apart/ like snapping wire/ or gum/ when you yank
it/ from your devouring jaw/ i want to steal fire/ from the gods/ and be damned what they do/ smite my flesh/ from bones so weary/ that death
would be just/ another word for rest/ i want to redo myself/ until i have forgotten the face/ of my father/ and the anger of my mother/ wrapped so tight/ around the map of my own/ that without them/ i would be lost/ i want to let my bones/ bleach in the sun/ and my face become unrecognizable/ beneath the fury of talon and blood/ i want the agony of change/ and i want/ i want to redo myself.
jupiter
By Jordan
jupiter, jupiter
light up my skin
burn it, if you’d burn it
god if you’d burn it
let me be one with you
my jupiter
no one on the ground
wants to feel the burn of my skin
but you burn harder than me
so youd hold me
my jupiter
wouldn’t you?
father, father
tell me where have you been
cheesy song lyrics from sad boys
but thats what i was
cheesy, sad
drowning quite blissfully
in the cold after a burn
frozen peas on friction scuffs
from being shoved
across the carpet
by something labelled love
someone labelled lover
pain, pain
but it always begins
with belonging
is this what i want?
is this who i am?
am i a square peg
in a circle hole?
or am i a circle peg
in a square hole?
still fits, adaptable
no way of knowing if its correct
i’ll just be
jupiter, jupiter
light up my skin
surely it doesnt matter
which peg hole i fit
if my skin is alight with you
your stardust,
his stardust,
mine and the world’s
you’ll let me burn
not pink, nor blue
a passionate silver
just me, your j, your jordan
He or She
No.
I don’t use she I use he,
and no, it’s okay.
You didn’t know that I use
he and not she.
It's an honest mistake,
to use she and not he
when you didn't know
I use he and not she.
But now you know.
Now you know it's he and not she
And I smile and grimace as you
turn to your friend and say,
‘She is a he’
or ‘he was a she’
because she isn't a he
and he wasn't a she.
He is a he.
Or when you say
‘I knew him
when he was a she
but now she's a he.’
I was always a he.
And why do they need to know
that I used to be a she not a he
when the point is
I am a he not a she.
And with so many
shes and hes
and hes and shes
and she not he
no he not she
I know.
I know that once im gone
it'll be back to she.
When I am he.
A Poem Of A Trans Experience: I Remember
By Maxx
I remember being at a family party, when the conversation of gender-neutral toilets came up.
I remember picking at the frayed cuffs of my sleeves as my dad called people who used them ‘snowflakes’.
I remember my uncle saying that people who identified outside the gender binary didn’t exist.
I remember being squished in the back seat of the car, trying to make myself as small as possible.
I remember my mum asking me why I was being quiet.
I remember thinking to myself, ‘apparently, I don’t exist.’
I remember saying ‘no reason, I'm just tired.’
I remember realising that this was the day when I felt the need to make contingency plans, in case my coming out went wrong.
I remember writing my plan huddled in the dark and tucking it in the back of my favorite notebook, so I would always know what to do.
I remember a friend's parents, who knew my fears, telling me I'd always have a place with them if I needed it.
I remember her mum being a witness, signing my name change documents.
I remember my teacher, sitting me down on one of those hard plastic chairs and asking if I was gay.
I remember avoiding eye contact and explaining yes, but no. I'm trans, and gay.
I remember realising I needed to come out to my parents, because all my friends and teachers called me he, and I didn’t want a slip up to be my coming up.
I remember the dog I was looking after curling on my lap as I texted my mum.
I remember anxiously playing with his ears as I waited for her response.
I remember my coming out going surprisingly well, despite the four years I'd spent fearing rejection.
But I still remember that day.
I remember the day I felt shunned by my own family, and I know, it’s likely they don’t remember at all.
