Three Years Ago

My first day at Evergreen

I was ready for flight OR fight.

Out of the baking August parking lot

and into Admissions. I tell you—

my foster mom hadn’t of been there

I mighta shot back through the door

like some kind of Olympic runner.

Stood at the end of the line,

freezing in my fuchsia tank top,

turquoise skirt, strappy gold sandals.

Girl, that building was icy but

the papers I held were floppy,

my hands sweatin’ so bad.

Finally my turn. Big crabby-looking guy

with beady eyes called, “Next.”

I went up to his window,

handed him my application.

He looked it over, looked at me,

and he

frowned.

People get uptight

when your ID

calls out a gender

different than what you present.

My foster mom touched my elbow

soft — lettin’ me know she was there.

Still, my back was up when

Beady Eyes stepped away

to get a supervisor, muttering,

         “Right name, wrong gender.”

And I’d heard it before—

but God was with me that day.

Beady Eyes’s supervisor

came to the window.

         “You’re Angel?” Adjusted her

         glasses. Looked over them.

         At me.

I nodded,

stretched my neck,

made sure my

courtesy-of-a-sadistic-

pervert-john

collarbone scars

showed.

Not afraid of this.

Ready to lay me down some attitude.

          “We’re admitting you today

          but you might want

          to get new state identification.

           “You need a note

          from your doctor and

          signed by a witness,

          the identification you have now,

          and a special form, DL 328.

          “Then your information

          will match you better.”

That sweet little old lady

winked at me

and I almost fell over.

Now every time

I pull out my ID

F for Female

feels like T for Triumph.