Haiku for Intersectional Feminism

If feminism

Isn’t intersectional 

It is just bullshit



If the world didn’t fill you with shame, how would you live your life? Would you fill it with strange and exotic movements? Would you be somebody else? Would you continue to hide those aspects of yourself that others call ugly? Or would you make them beautiful? Would you celebrate your darker impulses? What would you do?

The Whore and the Holy One (cont’d…)

The only thing that keeps me from going back is shame. I wish not to hurt Gustav, nor disappoint him. But I will not lie and say he is the source of my sheepishness; it is my own. The shame is mine. It is that which fractures me from myself; that which gives me pause and forces me to struggle against who I am. 

One minute I am ready to flee Gustav and the hearth and the horses and the goats, and return to the streets and the country sides and my endless wandering; return to dimly lit bedrooms with dark skinned men salivating and seething in their lasciviousness; return to the sailing ports and the battle camps, and the galas; to the faceless customer with pocket full of coin and the promise, within his loins, of some hidden ecstasy. The next minute I wish to retreat to my desk, to my books, to my prayers, and meditations, my altar of crystal and incense, to the sage brush and the lavender smoke, to fine linens, and the love of a man who venerates me, who celebrates me as holy, as goddess, as moon. 

But never shall the two poles of my life greet each other. Never shall they warmly embrace that which both lack. Never shall the whore in me, the wayward slut, wild, sensuous and free, meet the holy one, the innocent maiden, the vestal, solemn and pious. 

I regret only that I will not live to see a world in which I am whole. Rather I feel I must accept this fractured existence and allow myself the space to be broken and yearning, always yearning… for something profound, something exuberant, something more. 

The Whore and the Holy One

I am suddenly fraught with an indelible urge, and in my aching a sweet, untapped power sleeping in the force of my soul. I was too young to know it then. Then when I was a mere infant, a boy in the eyes of the world; a slave in the eyes of the hag. How I secretly despised her, beheld her with such contempt even as a child when my eyes were knew and my knowledge was little. Since those days, I have changed beyond recognition. The serpent has found me again and again where I’ve hidden; forced me to step further into myself, into the darkness dwelling unsung within me.

My name is Diana, though I go by Di. I am unsure where I come from though I suspect from the old hag’s rambling that I was orphaned via shipwreck. At night, I can hear screams in my sleep. They are faint, almost inaudible. But I hear them. One of them may be the voice of my mother. But I may just be making believe. Much of my story is composed of blank spaces, which I fill in at my leisure.

I am writing this from atop a walnut desk in a stable hearth. There are horses neighing beneath me. And a window in front of my desk that overlooks the pasture and beyond it the little toes of the city. This hearth has become my citadel. The temple of a religion of one. I am married now. He is a good man, though we do not make love. He reveres me too deeply for that, he says.

Still when he is away I touch myself upon sheets of satin and pillows of velvet, my body splayed in the glassy moonlight, fingers off performing their sacred missions, and I think of him hovering over me, inside me, enveloping me; I think of letting go; of sweet, ancient surrender. To him I am holy, but to me I am whore—the slut who longs for consumption in the carnal; the slut who longs to be swallowed whole by the sirens of ecstasy; the happy little curly slut who dreams of my lost homeland, of my mother whose face I do not know, of the gardens, and the honeybees, and the salt swept breezes off the windy coasts.

I am uprooted. A nomad. Even in my marriage. I harbor from him a hidden life, a life he does not see nor could he. I await the day, I admit, when I may return to the endless walking paths, the roads, and the tree lined forests. I await the day when I may once more practice the sacred rituals of my body’s essential nature. And if my feet so will it, find my way back home, wherever home is.


She was a tender angel with a pouty lip. A little cutie baby with a name she didn’t know yet. And that name was Zoey….

Something feels different today. A shift has occurred.

I feel lighter. I feel intent on my purpose.

I feel beautiful. And cute. And kind. And open to growing and learning from my mistakes.

I feel love from within and without.

I ran through the woods with the doggies, dodging from tree to tree as fast as I could.

I felt like a child. Like a beautiful, whimsical child. Something beautiful is happening to me.

I can feel this little girl inside of me blossoming into a young, self-assured woman. And I just can’t begin to describe how that feels.

Tonight, the sky was a purple ribbon. I pulled it down and tied a neat bow in my curls. I am one with the Moon. I am one with the Sea. I am one with all things.

I am really happy. And maybe it’s because I have reached a new level of depth and beauty in my personality. Maybe it’s because I sense that I’m growing, becoming whole.

I was on a walk today and I felt something creep in: a touch of magic, a taste of the divine, the world grew larger in my eyes and I felt my skin expand to new lengths; lengths that engulf all things around me: dogs, shrubs, oaks, moss, lichen, birds. Everything.

There are books in my future; financial security; and good good love. And boy am I excited to leave the past behind; always honoring the wounded girl from whom I have evolved.

She deserves so much love. So much care and celebration. What an incredible girl she is. So creative. So cute. So caring and kind. Such a big heart. My mother’s heart. She has my mother’s heart. And my father’s bravery. She is as big as the Moon, and bright as the Sun. She is the well from which I drink. The spring from which I spring. The source from which I leap into the cosmos, into my place in the Tapestry of Life.


I’m not going to cry because it honestly feels so good. But listen you guys. I have strived so hard to get to this place. I have sacrificed so much. Let go of so much. Allowed so much psychic pain to flood through me. And now here I am. Alive. Beautiful. Confident.

On the precipice of my great girlish dreams; the ones that filled my heart and imagination as a child, as a young girl who didn’t even know she was a girl; a girl who had accepted all that the world placed upon her small shoulders. But what a cutie. What a big lover. What a poet and a dreamer. What a whimsical little lady. What eyes she has for this world.

And I am her, and she is me. And the Child and the Adult have, after so long, become one.

Tonight I danced in the wind. I laughed to myself. And told the doggies I loved them. I am growing into a strong young woman of trans and queer experience.


My friends are all lovers. Lovers all friends. It manifests differently in each relationship. But the consistent force is an undying love that refuses to remain static, a love that grows from itself, that remains open and flowing. A love capable of smashing all barriers and engulfing all the shadows. A love that extends outward in all directions. From me to you.

And here is the simple answer to the modern problem of differentiation, resolved after so long spent searching: love yourself so deeply you are willing to go far into discomfort, into the darkness, into all the places inside of you that go bump in the night, all the places you have refused to explore. Love yourself so deeply that you are willing to be completely transformed by the sheer force, the sheer breadth, the sheer magic, and the sheer terror of the world. Allow yourself to learn and grow and change. Give yourself the gift of taking things slow. Of not rushing. See your beauty as it exists beyond the realm of productivity and finance. Be willing to speak your truth. AND EVEN MORE IMPORTANT, BE WILLING TO QUIET DOWN AND RECEIVE OTHERS’. This will transform your life. This will bridge the gaps of difference. This will enable you to see the Divine in all beings and to evolve your state of mind until it is pregnant with as much understanding as one brain can possibly handle. 

Self-love is not easy. For it begins in the realm of uncertainty. It begins with acknowledging that you’re not quite sure how to do it. You’re not quite sure what it means. And if you are, oh my GOD I am SO proud of and happy for you, because there is no greater blessing than to know you are capable of growing, of humbling yourself, and feeling real, visceral love inside your own body.

I am a woman. I am trans. I am queer. I am non-binary. I am androgynous. I am spiritual. I am revolutionary. I am ME.

And oh my gosh, my loves, it feels so effing good. Like, what the heck! WHAT. THE. HECK!


I would not be here now saying this without so many (too many to count) people inspiring me, informing me, impressing me, influencing me, giving of themselves and their genius to me, showing me the way forward simply by the virtue of being fearlessly their own people. WOW. WOWIE. WOWIE. WOW.

I am so blessed. So fortunate. And I am privileged (I do not so much celebrate this privilege as I do seek to understand it as it relates to the world, as it relates to those who do not have the same privileges. And insofar as I see my privileges and am willing to use them to help others, I believe it is important to recognize what I have received in this life; and there is no shortage of them, I recognize that. And I also recognize that every day those without these same privileges struggle to reach the same clarity because they literally don’t have time or space or social resources; they have families, and bills, and so many forces bearing down upon them and it is for them that I write; that I seek to become better). I am privileged in my skin color. I am privileged in my physical attractiveness. I am privileged in my ability to pass as cisgender. I am privileged for having been raised in the third wealthiest county in America. I am privileged for receiving a high-quality, top-notch private education. I am privileged for graduating high school and being able to afford University [and for the financial support I received from my family]. I am privileged for my intellect. And my ability to communicate. I am privileged in my strength. I am privileged in my familial support (BOY AM I PRIVILEGED THERE! Thank you so much to my family for supporting me. You may not understand me. You may look at my life and think, gosh do I not have the slightest clue what she’s doing but I know she is pursuing her happiness and evolution and that makes me happy. I cannot ask you to understand what you have never experienced, but I can thank you for a. trying and b. for accepting me regardless.) I am privileged in too many ways to count. But I will try to count them. And I will try to use each of my privileges in ways that build the bright world I have dreamt of since my earliest youth. I will use every bit of what I have been given to help manifest that utopia. I believe it is possible. Sure, Earth is a big place. But I believe that every human being, given the right circumstances, can find happiness and community. Sure, sure. Maybe there are exceptions (psychopaths, people with Antisocial Personality Disorder, i.e. people who are literally incapable of knowing their pure baby hearts.) But with the right circumstances, anyone can find their way to the path of love. It is only a matter of creating those circumstances (assuming you have the space to do so, and if you don’t, fight nonetheless; KNOW YOU ARE WORTHY OF IT); it is a matter of extending your platform to those whose voices need to be raised higher than yours. It is a matter of knowing you are just one small part in a much larger machine, a beautiful, beautiful, and slightly terrifying machine.

Now. This is a revelation. I feel beautiful. I feel creative. I feel held. I feel celebrated. I feel loved. I feel anxious to meet my future. But! There is a turning point in my life that involves the acceptance and dissolution of self-doubt; a turning point that involves me trusting what it is that I am capable of, what it is that I am connected to. And guess what?

There is a whole world waiting on the other side of that. There is a whole world of learning, and listening, and growing, and growing, and growing, and helping. This is all I want for the world. And for myself.

Something feels different today. Something has shifted. Something new is creeping in, enlarging my heart (not literally thank god, but spiritually, emotionally.) Something powerful, something I have been seeking tenaciously for so so long, is crystallizing inside of me, emerging from the murky muck and the cold depths, rearing its gorgeous head, shouting into the void:


And insofar as I am whole, I am healthy, I am hallowed, I am holy, I am home. Thank the Beautiful Divine.

I am Home.