In living color.

Poet. Human Runway. Activist.

Age: 18

Location:Palmdale, California

IG: @winterissues

When I was younger, I’d run straight to the Girls’ section for my clothes. They had all the colors, and to me, color represented joy. My mom never complied. She let me know there was a difference between “boy” and “girl”, so I had to wear what was designed for me.

My father was in and out of our home. He was abusive, so we’d experience extended periods of his absence until the cycle began again. By this time, I was older and began shopping for myself. I’d go to little thrift shops and piece together items that made me feel vibrant. A patch here, some color there. I felt like my full self. Each time my father would come home, he’d steal my clothes. One by one, all of my favorite items were gone until there was no color left in my closet. Just the oversized bland sweaters he purchased to make me become more of a man. More like him.

Just warming up.

In stealing my color, he tried to steal my joy. He tried to place me inside of boxes (and clothes) that I would never fit. He failed, though. I kept thrifting. Kept seeking second-hand magic to help me blur the gender spectrum. And I’ll do this until I find my dream outfit: Prince’s blue corset high waisted pants.

I don’t want to be muted. I want to be colorful. And I’d encourage any young child who exists outside of binaries to reject the world’s dress code and create their own.

Living my best life.