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The Kind Cryptid

"After doing a lot of painful and difficult work on myself and how I feel in my nonbinary-ness, I started to get into poetry as an easily accessible way for me to put down my feels and thoughts. 

I was approached by a friend running an exhibition on queer living spaces to contribute some material of any kind that answered a series of questions.

'How do you define your queerness?' was the most difficult to answer because I intentionally never thought about it much.

Usually I would answer this kind of question with 'eh, I'm nonbinary, polyamorous and queer. I am everything and nothing at once. Schrodingers gender!'

But this time I wanted to actually examine how I would describe my queerness and what I would use to define it.

Nonconforming is not the label I would use, but it is what some may think fits best. However, my clothing, my hair, and my manner are not nonconforming to ME. My expression is what I have had the most trouble with in my journey towards a more embodied queerness, however, so I delved a little deeper into that specific aspect of my identity. 

While I am not the most visually shocking or exciting person in the room at any event, I will always feel right, correct, comfortable, embodied, safe. It took a long time to get there, and that process is what this poem captures.

I am the Kind Cryptid Storyteller, and I use they/them pronouns. I am a queer and disabled writer living in Birmingham, UK. I graduated with a First Class Masters degree in Playwriting and Dramaturgy at the University of Glasgow. While I mainly write plays, I also delve into poetry, prose and radio play writing when the fancy takes me."

"I made a vow to never write anything without a main character who is transgender as I am a little sick of the lack of voices we are allowed in the crowd."

Instagram: @kind.cryptid.storyteller



gender euphoria and gender euphoria and gender euphoria

at the shore of a river out the 

back of my house 

my body, made up 

wearing the beautiful dress i wore 

at prom in 2015 

i was wearing my loosest t-shirt 

slouching forward 

to hide them 

doc martens treading heavy 

cargo shorts 

i had once tried to burn the body 

to drown the body 

again and failed 

to rip it apart 

legs lying spread on my bathroom floor


i had ripped off the breasts and flesh around the hips my hands 

it comes back together 

as if i had done nothing 

i had crammed it in the walls of my old home 

with the dust 

and the cat hair 

and the blood stained bedsheets 

and the small bedroom window 

and my never family 

it now sits in my living room  

watching Strictly on the TV 

draining my blood, swallowing my dreams for years 

quietly in corners of vision 

it tells me i need it 

that since it was left behind 

it always found its way back 

i asked for the dress 

to make it into something 

a new shawl for my friend 

a lining for my jacket 

a table cloth 

the body decomposes, leaving 

behind “remember me, love me”

i remember, i love, learn to 

forgive it for existing 

i finally ink my skin, make myself a home, dream again, remember with  compassion, dye my hair green, let my girlfriend hold my ass, stop trying to justify  “him”, become just “they”, find others like me, wear eyeliner, start liking my voice,  love my body, and gender euphoria and gender euphoria and gender euphoria and  gender euphoria and gender euphoria and gender euphoria and gender euphoria and gender euphoria and 

  and and 

and and 

  and and and  and 

gender euphoria 

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