Standing Proud Poetry Anthology 2020

Café I see him sitting in the café He leaves his black coffee too long It is nearly cold when he takes a sip. His jumper is careworn And has a small hole in the sleeve Why wear such a scruffy item? Maybe sentimental value – A gift perhaps? He smiles and laughs when joined by friends The laugh fills the room momentarily He’s forgotten how loud his laugh can be Until too late. Everyone turns and stares. STANDING PROUD 101

Can’t You See It? Your homophobic slurs They sting as much As every racist barb Thrown at you. I can see how you hurt When they put you down. Why can’t you see How much you hurt me? Cat When I photograph you, All I see is a black hole, Where my beloved cat should be. When you stare straight up at me, I find myself drawn to you Your eyes two beautiful green pools. I try to fool myself That this is a look of love. The truth is though, you’re just hungry! 102 STANDING PROUD

Hurt Where does it hurt When they shout at you and jeer? Does it hurt When they call you faggot and queer? It hurts When you need to run in fear. Hurt But strong too when friends are near. Hurt No more now friends are on my side. It hurts No more now I don’t have to hide. Does it hurt? Not now I’m free – eyes open wide. Where does it hurt? No longer within me, it’s somewhere outside. STANDING PROUD 103

Local Shop We walk to the local shop. A simple errand, dropping off parcels to the nearest collection point. Someone comes in, younger than me, taller than me. I open the door to leave with my husband. There are two more tall young men outside and they head towards the open door, towards me, getting closer. Very close. I ask them to observe social distance. “I will,” mumbled the one at the front in a surly tone, and yet he comes still closer to me. The one in the shop has come up behind me. I feel trapped. Once the two from outside have barged past me I look at the shopkeeper in disbelief, “Did you see how close they got?” I quickly head outside with my husband. Heading up the hill. Not looking back. Once we’ve put 100 yards between us and them, I hear it. “Gay!” I am no longer a teen, but they are and all of a sudden I feel the tight knot of homophobia and fear I used to wrestle with every day at school resurface. Feel it in the middle of my chest like a tumour, a growth which cannot be removed without risk to the patient. We keep going, trying not to look back. When we turn the corner, we look behind us, looking to make sure we can’t be seen, to make sure they don’t identify the house we live in, our home. I feel relief when I can’t see them. Relief I can quickly duck out of sight behind the hedge. I spot them just as I disappear up our drive, but they haven’t seen us. They head up the road opposite ours. I get indoors and start to breathe again. The ghost of the incident sits with me for the rest of the day. I can’t quite shake the disappointment that old fears and emotions can be packed away in a box in your heart, but never really disposed of. I need to get past this. I have to get past this. I know I’ll get past this. 104 STANDING PROUD

Red It’s bold, it’s brash The heat is ramped up It’s loud and in your face No subtlety, just glorious bright colour. Revel in its confidence. The Message Four days have passed and there is still no sign of them. The world has been in a state of panic since the broadcast received from somewhere out there. TV and radio had been interrupted. They said they were coming, they said they would reach earth soon. The message did not make their intentions clear. Social media was flooded with speculation. Would they enslave humanity on arrival or share technology to herald a new golden age? Are they intergalactic refugees or empire builders from beyond the stars? Four days have passed and there is still no sign of them. STANDING PROUD 105

The Pride That Never Was We marched, but only in our heads Our festival view Framed 16 x 9 We danced, but only in our heads The music plays Through computer audio We hugged, but only in our heads Friends still seen Thanks only to the tech This loneliness, is only in my head I still feel Pride And I can still reach out 106 STANDING PROUD

Waiting It’s been four days now and there is still no sign of him. Every morning since I received the telegram saying he’ll return I stand here for a while looking down the street in the hope of seeing his beaming smile and his shock of glorious red hair. It was a sad day when he went to war and I watched him leave in his smart new uniform, kit bag slung casually over one shoulder. I think about him as soon as I awake, yearning to have him with me again. My heart swelled when the telegram arrived, and I read the news. These four days have seemed longer than all the years he has been gone. I need him back with me. I need him. Cushion Soft, a warm red colour, the classic shape of an unbroken heart It represents our love It represents the strength of our love It represents forever STANDING PROUD 107

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BECKY LEONARD-DIXON (She/Her) Becky Leonard-Dixon is a thirty something queer Yorkshire woman living in the Midlands. She has written poetry intermittently since her teens and enjoys riding her motorbike, playing the guitar and singing. She works for a housing charity and part of her role has been creating and delivering LGBT+ awareness and inclusivity training and being the bi+ representative for their pride network. In 2017 she won the accolade of “most inspiring” from her organisation and in 2020 she was delighted to be recognised by Stonewall as “Role Model Of The Year” for her dedication promoting workplace equality relating to sexuality and mental health. STANDING PROUD 109

My First Pride Halfway in the closet Poking a little toe out Surrounded by these heroes That’s what it’s all about I have always known That I’m not exactly straight And its days like this one When I’m able to relate I’m almost there Ready to feel proud Inspired by these people Finally, part of this crowd It really is quite scary When people are so clear No doubt in their minds Not a single ounce of fear Little did I know That they struggled too Coming out is individual And pride is our glue 110 STANDING PROUD

The Flag Hot pink, sexuality. Titillation and taste Red, life. Love and happiness Orange, healing. Hope and future Yellow, sunlight. Beauty and family Green, nature. Tranquillity and health Turquoise, art. Creativity and expression Indigo blue, harmony. Peace and acceptance Violet, spirit. Self and essence Black, diversity. Celebration and value Brown, inclusivity. Voices and collaboration. STANDING PROUD 111

The Protest Smiles and colour everywhere I have a light flutter in my gut I’m now strong and brave enough To join this remarkable strut I stand proud with my peers And march tall for what is right Parading through my city A champion in the vital fight The energy is palpable I can feel it in my bones Today we are visible Not shooed away to zones Our banners and our whistles Get the message across Each and every one of us Feels like a boss Celebrating love and gender Expressing our art in drag A community ascending Draped in every flag 112 STANDING PROUD

Imposter Syndrome I must be an imposter Society tells me so My inclination isn’t valid Pick a side or go! Thankfully, I’ve found some people Who think the same as me It’s just a shame my family Can’t just let it be STANDING PROUD 113

Internalised Phobia Out of my closest Speaking my truth I try to forgive myself For a phobic youth I haven’t been out long And the fear that I’ve faced Came from inside me My identity misplaced Sometimes I still Sweep it under the rug It’s hard to be proud I brush it off with a shrug There were no allies No role models to see I didn’t know how beautiful Being out would be I’m tough on myself I always have been But life does get easier When you feel like you’re seen 114 STANDING PROUD

2019 They’re sat on bus Going about their day Targeted In this despicable way Why aren’t they free To hold hands and laugh? The bus just keeps rolling No help from the staff Objectified, made small Hit in the face! Brought down to earth Their pride leaves no trace Beautiful women Should be perfectly safe Reduced to victims Another media case But they told their story Were brave and so strong Showing the naysayers That this surely is wrong! STANDING PROUD 115

Erasure I’m not promiscuous Happiest in a pair My being bisexual Won’t lead to an affair Am I due less respect? Less common courtesy? Less longed for acceptance? Less right to be free? I was told if I were gay I would be easier to swallow That being bisexual isn’t real I should choose a side to follow One day this world Might learn to understand me So, I’ll just be who I am And do my best to live free 116 STANDING PROUD

Fetishized You just don’t get it And you sit and call me greedy Laugh it off, it’s a joke And then you get seedy My complex sexuality Is not owned by you I’m not bi for your pleasure Out your door I flew STANDING PROUD 117

Pride Pride for me is a difficult topic It’s not just who I’m attracted to It’s about loving who I am Believing in the respect I am due It’s attached to my mental state To my disorder and heavy heart To how I live every day Sexuality, is one small part Pride is a daily fought battle Every day, I have to decide How I will love myself today In which ways will I not hide? I can take pride in who I am now Because I have fought to win I’ve earned every ounce of it Taken every slur on the chin Like a broken plate repaired It takes one knock to shatter I have to remind myself that My life, does in fact matter 118 STANDING PROUD

My Role Model Brenda Howard, the mother of pride Why does she get such a hard ride? An instrumental figure, created the first march Mostly forgotten, for being on the bi arch Bisexuality, the invisible B letter She created the first bi advocacy centre Come on community, we can do better! Imagine how I’d appreciate her for a mentor! Not to take away from Sylvia and Marsha But forgetting poor Brenda, feel so much harsher She fought fearlessly for our rights until 2005 We should have recognised her while she was alive I’ll remember you Brenda And share your story of strength Because of you I am now safer To live on our wavelength STANDING PROUD 119

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CHRIS COX (He/Him) Chris is a former engineer turned welfare benefits and housing support worker, occasional pianist, even more occasional cyclist and enjoys tinkering with dangerous voltages. When not elbow deep in obsolescent audio equipment, he occasionally writes. No website or Facebook page, his writing is nothing like serious enough for that. Pre-lockdown, Chris was a regular at the Worcester Repair Cafe and he is hoping for a resumption in due course, since he enjoys nothing more than fixing somebody’s mucky old vacuum cleaner. Chris is quite good at irony. STANDING PROUD 121

Prospect Cottage “Prospect Cottage” is a piece inspired by Derek Jarman’s garden in Dungeness, which he planted and nurtured against the odds from 1986 until his untimely death in 1994. Derek Jarman was a filmmaker, artist and gay rights activist whose memoir, Modern Nature, speaks of his anger against the institutionalised homophobia of the time in addition to chronicling his filmmaking, art and gardening, all against the backdrop of the AIDS crisis. Prospect Cottage and its garden were saved for the nation by The Art Fund in 2020. I stand on a windswept beach. It’s Summer, but the air is chilly and goosebumps threaten. Time passes and the shadows lengthen. I look out over Prospect Cottage. Its pitch walls stand stark from the flat landscape. I take in the rugged garden, blending with the sparse environment. The wildflowers contrast with sculptures of driftwood and pebbles. The garden merges into the rest of the beach. Upturned fishing boats add to the feel of a sculpture park. I draw breath: The air has a bite and freshness found only by the sea. I hear... almost nothing. The sea laps gently at the shore, a seabird cries, a faraway car passes. As the Sun edges towards the horizon, the sea turns crimson. I feel at peace. My mind empties as I take in this moment. Hours skip by, or is it seconds? I do not know. It does not matter. 122 STANDING PROUD

The Errant Cyclist (read with emphasis as shown on first line) The pedal goes down The pedal comes up I climb Ankerdine My weight doesn’t help! I get to the top Ride fast down the hill I get my reward To the pub, to the pub! Shapka O shapka, o shapka Looking like a sleepy cat O shapka, o shapka You’re my favourite Russian hat! O shapka, o shapka You keep my noggin super warm Earflaps down or earflaps up With you on my bonce, I’ll weather the storm! O shapka, o shapka Yes, I get some funny looks They point and laugh, with their cold heads I’m warm and snug, the joke’s on them! STANDING PROUD 123

Tranquility He lies curled on the bed, Lost in a feline dream. A sigh escapes, A hind leg twitches. Does he dream of mice under the shed, Or, transformed, of hunting gazelle on the high savannah? Sleek, Glossy black, A witch’s familiar. Lockdown Haiku Shopping is weird now Everyone standing in line There are toilet rolls! 124 STANDING PROUD

Freewrite From Week 11 Everything I need is here. I feel the sun warming my face. Maybe I should turn over - I decide not to. I hear the wind in the trees, and a magnolia petal lands on my cheek. I hear the soft noises of contented hens, not quite a cluck, more a little burr of contentment as they scratch in the border. They sound close by. The swing seat I am lying on creaks as the wind nudges it into gentle motion. Eyes closed, I imagine rather than see the broad beans pushing up next to the shed, and the runners lingering next to their canes, not quite tall enough to twine. There is peace here, not total silence but quiet punctuated with the occasional car or passing family on the other side of the hedge. I feel like a solar powered charger, topping up my battery levels in the sun. Eventually I get too warm and retreat indoors. STANDING PROUD 125

Two Metres How far is two metres? Bamboo cane end to end, Two thirds of a cow Distance to a friend. A radio wavelength Ham radio band A critical distance A line in the sand How far is two metres? It feels not that much Eighty snails in a row Far enough not to touch The length of a bed Alas what a bore! A small parking space The new social more 126 STANDING PROUD

Easing Of Lockdown - Haiku Triplet Easing of lockdown Charity shop bonanza! Won’t know what hit them But is it too soon? A distraction from failure? “Support bubble” - burst Walking through city With nothing to do but shop No pubs, no toilets STANDING PROUD 127

“One Of Our Hens Is Missing” Where’s she gone this time? Is she stuck in the hedge? Lost next door, Or trapped on a ledge? Abducted by aliens Or kidnapped for ransom I’m kicking myself ‘cos That bird is so handsome! Did foxy come calling To eat her for dinner? Or is she just hiding? If so she’s a winner. I look out the window Oh, look she’s back She’s quite hard to see Being speckledy black I think she just fancied A bit of a change A lockdown vacation This hen is free range! 128 STANDING PROUD

“I Can’t Breathe” Oh no not again Suffocation and death We exported our racism He breathed his last breath A failed system We can’t duck the blame A knee on the neck Our eternal shame Haiku Inspired By A Photograph Bicycle and tree The one chained to the other Flowers spill over STANDING PROUD 129

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DAWN WRIGHT (She/Her) Lives in the Cotswolds. Is transgendered; m to f. Is in a loving relationship with a “jellyfish called Atolla.” “If it had not been for lockdown, we would never have met.” Dawn believes in equality, diversity, bioluminescence and“slime.” STANDING PROUD 131

Why The last letter informed the first word, The first word informed the last sentence, The last sentence informed the first question, The first question informed the last word, The last word informed the first letter, The first letter informed the last love, The last love informed the first nurse, The first nurse informed the last letter. Just to clarify. The last letter is “ Y “ The first word is why The last sentence is “Death” The first question is why The last word is why The first letter: is the first letter written to... The last love (of his or her life) The first nurse is the first nurse to find the deceased letter The last letter was put in with the other letters and forms on the ward. 132 STANDING PROUD

The Nightingale In a pretty Spanish garden Angelina combs her hair and the children bring her flowers and they lay them on the chair And she tells them gentle stories just to brighten up their day in a pretty Spanish garden on the 25th of May In a pretty Spanish garden there’s an empty wooden chair where a mother held her daughter and placed flowers in her hair Angelina tends the flowers with all the love she can afford but she spends the lonely hours as a cleaner on the ward There’s a little Spanish garden far removed from old Seville where a nightingale is singing from a London windowsill In a pretty Spanish garden Angelina combs her hair and the children bring her flowers and they lay them on the chair. STANDING PROUD 133

Zoom Out together In apart Zoom together Rooms apart More together Less apart Pull together Push apart Stick together Slip apart Apart together Together apart. Logos There is no logos I heard God say I feel better now Knowing he is out Of the way. 134 STANDING PROUD

Alphitomancy I’ll mix my words As I mix my bread The smells I sells Will be the spells I said And when this bread Fills up your head The last spells smell Will proof you dead. Two Bees In A Bubble I have just seen Two bees in a bubble... Woops let me count that again! STANDING PROUD 135

So Brave You were so brave So visible and vulnerable You were so “old hat” But what a hat What a stance… You took a stand You made my father Screw his face up And clench his fist Just because You were Quentin Crisp. Tony Lumpkin Tony Lumpkin Stole my pumpkin The day he went to war So, I thump’t him On his lumpkin Now Tony doesn’t Love me anymore. 136 STANDING PROUD

Dear Joyce Regarding your voice Your voice is not my voice My voice is not your voice You should rejoice In your own voice Even though it was not my choice To use this voice I had no choice I still rejoice In my own voice. In conclusion Your Joyce Is not my Joyce. Yours sincerely Arthur. Maltesers Tom looked out of the classroom window, ignoring Mr Hume and his maths lesson. The snow had fallen quite heavily that afternoon. Down below Tom could see where numerous cycle tyre tracks had created a mosaic pattern leading up to the school sports hut. He followed one track as it mazily wound its way to the back gate. He wondered if “July” would be there again at the end of school, and whether she was still worth two bags of Maltesers: just for the sight of one nipple? He decided she was. “Oh, what the hell, who cares” he thought... “I will show her both my nipples!” STANDING PROUD 137

The Key The key to the lock That unlocks the box Is locked in the box It unlocks Take hold of the key To set yourself free By turning the key In the lock Could it possibly be That the box That you see Is not just a house But a home? And the box That surrounds you Is the box that confounds you Your mind that won’t leave you alone Won’t leave you alone Won’t leave you at home Your mind that won’t leave you alone Locked down and boxed in Locked out from within Housing your secrets and fears The key that needs turning Is key to your learning And key to dissolving your tears From inside you own temple Know yourself and potential See predictable obstacles fall When your box is locked open Once the spirit has spoken The key is to answer the call 138 STANDING PROUD

If you think you can’t win Don’t jack the box in Or recoil from your sparkling mind It may pop up and surprise you Even self-actualize you And open a mind that was blind No count nor Houdini No wishful old genie No doctor who thinks within a box blue No ghost in a gland Could ever expand On the marvellous mystery of you The marvellous mysteries of you The mysterious marvel of you Let skeletons pick at their chubby relations Deadlocked in cylindrical brains Rigor mortis sets in At the end of the spin As a gorgon keys in her own name A paradox within a box Unlocks a hope in you Don’t offer a pardon To a curse that will harden It’s an unpardonable thing to do A mind in a womb In the mind of a mother Fathers another minds dream The mind here depicted Another decrypted So, love could unlock the unseen STANDING PROUD 139

Some locks can be sticky Some metaphors tricky Some concepts may tumble and fall But where love is the kernel Hope springs eternal In a mind that releases us all How be it mechanicals played A key role in this tale? My epilogue speaks To the mind still in jail Though it sat in a scene From an idle invasion And its exit was barred By a foggy contagion Snug fits the great key In the lock you’ve been turning The cobwebs are gone And the moths aren’t returning Now your lock is well oiled And I hope you are too And your mind is just waiting For something to do Should it make up your mind To stay locked in a prison Or will you see the dawn rise Through the eyes of a glorious prism? Clues: Verse 7 Delphi ,, ,, 9 Logosi ,, ,, 10 Not Medusa ,, ,, 11 Anagram ,, ,, 12, 3 = 1 ,, ,, 14,15,16, Bard. 140 STANDING PROUD

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LYDIA SOFIA (She/Her) Lydia Sofia is a former journalist living in Worcestershire. She writes largely about the experience of gender transition from a partner’s point of view, and themes from nature often feature. For the past seven years, she has worked supporting victims of sexual violence. She is on Instagram @lydiasofiawrites STANDING PROUD 143

Day One I’m setting the scene; It’s a Sunday night, I sit upright, Dazed. Unmoving. My hand just resting on your shoulder Stone still Where before it was swirling A motion to comfort. Then that heavy, black curtain fell Inviting the night to keep us company. I felt in that moment day could not break again And that this must be the stupor of a dream. No, not a dream. The most real you’ve ever been. You can’t scare me away This is Day One. 144 STANDING PROUD

I Am The Art This year I have started Stripping from my skin one single Block of colour. I am instead becoming the paintbrush, Dipping myself in to two shades and Blending them together as though I know what I am doing. I do not Know whether this hue is really me But it fits better than a straight-up splash Of rigidity. I am becoming the filling instead Of the bread and I am becoming The flexible thread that binds together Needle and fabric. Tick tick tock I am becoming the centre of the clock – I once was the hand that shuddered and stuck in place Mid-motion mins and mins and hims and hims. I am becoming the whisk and I mix One with the other; only last year I was the scales that kept them apart, Without even realising. Wait – I am not the paintbrush, I am the art. I am the pretty knot at the centre of a bow, And I am comfortable here. STANDING PROUD 145

The Cliffs At Durness We set up camp on a cliff edge The final ingredient in a cocktail shaker of unrelenting wind and rain That should have been prophecy enough. Threadbare ropes stretch and strain at the earth-made-bed Beneath the bleak split of sea and land; A more permanent tie but no less threatening. Unlike the Mycenaean king, we brought no Sacrifice for favourable winds. By way of an offering, I lay my thoughts and fears To rest in the shrieking mouth of a shore-side cave, A poor trade for the stillness taken from it. In our own quiet ways, we both made that deserted corner A home from home, Leaving parts of ourselves out there with the tent that Was whisked into the sea And on the beam from that lonely lighthouse My thoughts fly nightly over savage seas. They run with the deer through a wilderness Of ghosts and forgotten landmines. The flash picks me out, adrift in that black desolation Where I am the resistant catch, Now at home in those ever-changing waves, In a liquid hold that bears me when I cannot. How many times I’ve been both the King And his daughter. I see a future where we look again Across those waters and into the cave, Not to reclaim, but to wave. 146 STANDING PROUD

You Won’t Even Know I’m There You are transforming. I am transforming too. I am now the dial on a universal control That turns down the debate about your Very existence on every television, Social media space and Radio show in every home. I mute the faceless masses who have so much To say on something that concerns them In such a small way. I am now a magical anti-exhaustion pill for All of the above. I am now your shadow and I am with you Facing any painful bathroom challenge and Ignorant, drawn-out stare and spat syllable And every purposeful ‘sir’. I am now a forcefield that keeps your hair perfectly In place when a careless wind wings in. I am the glow that lights you when a kind Cashier compliments your nails. You don’t ask for my protection – I know you don’t need me really, But I promise You won’t even know I’m there. STANDING PROUD 147

Origami Swan Gently, please. You must whisper your cruelties, Blunt the edges because right now I’m tracing paper and your sharpened Nib will tear through me Whether you mean it to or not. I know you are used to me Springing up Like a stubborn cardboard box That refuses to be stamped underfoot To more neatly fit inside its eco grave. Gloved hands of factory workers see Me coming on the production line And laugh – no nasty slices from this Frail piece flapping in the breeze of machines. She can’t hold anything lately – You can see in her faded outlines all the Things she’s tried to do and failed. It’s okay – I watched a Youtube video once On how to make an origami swan so Watch me find my way back to the water. 148 STANDING PROUD

Bathroom Hack When we first announced to our world that you would go by a new name, a friend with similar experience reached out to me. She wanted to pass on knowledge learned from many a nervous bathroom visit. Lipstick. Always carry a lipstick. So, I resolved to do just that. These days, while you’re washing hands and straightening skirts, I can be found making an ‘o’ and keeping an eye on anyone who dares to look too long. STANDING PROUD 149

Tick Box My pen hovers between boxes. For the first time in my life I don’t know Where to put myself in answer to this Question And I’m dancing between spaces where One is too tight, one is not right One might fit but I’m only just Trying it on. It feels vital where the ballpoint falls; Like a giant leap for us both although I’m Alone in the foyer. This is a step towards acceptance, support, Of us and of myself. This is an anonymous data collection form And I wonder how many have fumbled through that Dance before me, and for them I will be counted In my newly embraced form. I wonder how many other bi’s are in that box. 150 STANDING PROUD