What can we make of Trump's inaugural statement that "as of today, it will henceforth be the official policy of the United States government that there are only two genders: male and female"?

First, the word "henceforth" — meaning "as of now" — acknowledges that before his statement, the full array of gender identities existed, including transgender, gender neutral, nonbinary, agender, pangender, genderqueer, Two Spirit, third gender, and their variations.

Second, Trump imagines that these are a matter of choice, like naming a child or deciding what to eat for breakfast. Third, and most delusional, he supposes that a declaration in a speech can force people to change genders, as if changing jobs or political parties.

What can we do in the face of this hostile and calculated deception?

I feel confident that we'll find many pathways to assert our truths as we recover from the shock of this monstrous lie. In the meantime, we can send what signals of resistance and solidarity we have at hand, which is why I'm changing the name of this column from "Poetry = life" to "Poetry = resistance." Poets have always found ways to tell the truth in the face of fascism and marginalization, no matter how oppressive the regime.

The three poems presented here demonstrate three ways of telling the truth. Poet torrin a. greathouse [sic] rejects the poet's most important tool — metaphorical comparisons — in order to assert the stark tragedy of a girl who has been killed, probably because "someone will name her a man." The brilliant quality in this poem is the array of metaphors greathouse uses to illustrate the inadequacy of comparisons in the face of tragedy.

Langston Hughes' famous poem, "Harlem," was written in 1951 to express the frustration, isolation and anger in pre—Civil Rights Act America. It takes on a powerful new dimension today as it uses one comparison after another to suggest how aggressive marginalization could trigger explosive resistance.

And finally, Harold Norse's list poem "I'm Not a Man" enumerates all the reasons why his quiet rejection of masculine conventions define a greater, more liberating reality of masculinity.

All three poets are opposing the kind of oppression that Trump is trying to reassert. greathouse, Hughes, and Norse illustrate their power to reject the lies and support a new wave of American resistance.

The Body of a Girl Lies on the Asphalt like the Body of a Girl
torrin a. greathouse,
Wound from the Mouth of a Wound, Milkweed Editions, 2020

& this does not bear comparison. The body of a girl lies
on the asphalt and is not like the splayed anatomy

of broken fruit. It is not like a gaped wide mouth, throat
a stoppered bottle. It is not like the mystery of a bird

-less feathers. Or the dull-eyed glint of a wishing well
gone suddenly dry, down payments on possibility

parching in the sun. It is not like a bent hammered nail,
or snapped bough, or the silence after a question's heft.

The body of a girl lies on the asphalt like only the body
of a girl, & still someone will name her a man. No.

Perhaps, the body of a girl lies on the asphalt like
a daughter. Yes. Just like that.

Harlem
Langston Hughes
Gay & Lesbian Poetry in Our Time, St. Martin's Press, 1988

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore—
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

I'm Not a Man
Harold Norse
Gay & Lesbian Poetry in Our Time, St. Martin's Press, 1988

I'm not a man. I can't earn a living, buy new things for my
family. I have acne and a small peter.

I'm not a man. I don''t like football, boxing, and cars.
I like to express my feelings. I even like to put an arm around
my friend's shoulder.

I'm not a man. I won't play the role assigned to me— the role
created by Madison Avenue, Playboy, Hollywood and Oliver
Cromwell. Television does not dictate my behavior. I am under
5 foot 4.

I'm not a man. Once when I shot a squirrel I swore that I would
never kill again. I gave up meat. The sight of blood makes me
sick. I like flowers.

I'm not a man. I went to prison resisting the draft. I do not
fight back when real men beat me up and call me queer. I dislike
violence.

I'm not a man. I have never raped a woman. I don't hate blacks.
I do not get emotional when the flag is waved. I do not think
I should love America or leave it. I think I should laugh at it.

I'm not a man. I have never had the clap.

I'm not a man. Playboy is not my favorite magazine.

I'm not a man. I cry when I'm unhappy.

I'm not a man. I do not feel superior to women.

I'm not a man. I don't wear a jockstrap.

I'm not a man. I write poetry.

I'm not a man. I meditate on peace and love.

I'm not a man. I don't want to destroy you.