On Guys in Skirts

Today, I’d like to share with you a beloved poem that was written for me almost 2 years ago, by GennaRose Nethercott, sitting right on Main Street in Brattleboro during Gallery Walk, with her portable typewriter and contemporary/1920’s style fusion.  She was like a vision out of a time-warp, equipped with quick wit, pleasant prose, and a verily vast vocabulary.

GennaRose created what she called, “Poems-to-Order,” and would simply ask for you to provide her with a topic, and 10 minutes later, you would return to a wildly crafted and uniquely poignant piece of poetic history.

It seemed for me that a topic was hard enough to come up with, so I scanned up and down the street for the first interesting thing that caught my attention.  Low and behold, there was a guy, sauntering away from me, wearing a skirt (that may or may not have been a kilt), stepping intentionally with unabashed abandon, and the wind at his heels.

That’s what I wanted GennaRose to write about, and without a missed step, she kindly created my favorite poem in the entire world. 


♥ On Guys in Skirts ♥

There in the turn of autumn,

he tries on ballgowns in the second hand shop.

The florals buzz against him in quiet tremors.

Something is starting.

Some new creature is awakening, here amongst the taffeta.

The flowers are blooming.

Iggie Pop once said,

“I’m not ashamed to dress like a woman,

Because I don’t believe it’s shameful to be a woman.”

There in the clothing racks of salvation army,

a powder blue prom dress floats free of its hanger.

A man slips it over himself like a coat of armor.

Like a second skin.

by GennaRose Nethercott


After a long conversation with a dear friend of mine yesterday, regarding the massacre in Orlando, and that moment when we all have the split-second decision to be curious about and loving of what we don’t know, or contrarily to hate it and want to destroy it, I come to realize that GennaRose chose to love it. 

For me, she wrapped it up tightly in a protective rainbow blanket, simultaneously giving it shelter and a platform, without shame, but with pride, to show their true colors as a human being.  Regardless of how that guy in the skirt identifies in our society, or anyone who walks down the street wearing any damn thing, for that matter, it is in our constant power to choose to love them, period.  And in that very split-second decision, we are also choosing to love ourselves. 

Please visit GennaRose Nethercott’s website for some more information about the ARTist and her many talents.  And many unending thanks to GennaRose for crossing my path and showing me what love looks like, out in public on the dirty, confusing streets.

Love, Angel

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