Where Am I Supposed to Pee?

Pedro Luis Fernández Riestra

April 16th the courts decided,

And it marked the day when my question begins:

Where am I supposed to pee?

I'm not a woman, but the government says I am, 

So where am I supposed to pee?

I suppose the question lies in my biology,

So let's go there:

Where am I supposed to pee, biology?

And biology answers

"How am I supposed to know? If you have your womb, your uterus, your breasts,

But you have a beard and low voice because of your own testosterone."

Ah! PCOS it is! 

So I'm not a normative woman that's it. But still,

I'm no woman at all!

Oh, where am I supposed to pee?

Maybe sociology will have the answer, since it's stereotypes define gender,

 if I do it good enough, maybe they'll let me into

Where I truly belong.

Sociology, sociology, where am I supposed to pee?

How am I supposed to know? 

If by my standards the gender you currently have is none 

Feminine nose, baby face, wide hips thick thighs...

But also short hair, wide shoulders, "masc clothes"

I have no clue what you are now, let alone when your HRT will begin

The line will blur and blur and blur…

And my answer won't matter anyway. Biology is the one whose voice counts in courts...

 But... They didn't answer anything! 

My question remains, 

Where am I supposed to pee??

“Wherever I choose!”

Says the TERF. 

TERF, where am I supposed to pee?

“In the females bathroom. 

You are an adult human female

You produce eggs, it's only natural!”

But, TERF

What about women who have menopause? 

They don't produce eggs, where do they pee?

“That doesn't matter. 

They are females. 

They have a uterus! Like you,

 they shall pee in the women's room.”

But TERF not all women go through that.

Women lose their uterus due to cancer:

Uterine, ovarian, cervical, or fallopian tube...

“The answer is in chromosome then! 

XX, basic biology!

You must pee with the women then!”

I may, but what about the Swyer syndrome girls?

They have XY, because of a lack of their genetics!

 

“Outliers! Outliers! Outliers! Normal women don't have that! It's not that common!”

1 every 80000

 that's, by statistics, at least 3 in Gijón

 My hometown!

Not to mention intersex women

“Outliers! Outliers! You have no idea what you are saying!

It's basic biology! It's human facts!

 Women have between 15 to 70 nanograms per deciliter”

But those are white standards!

They leave me out because of my PCOS

And also leave out racialized women, who always score higher rates. 

They never got tested, the data is outdated.

“Outliers! Outliers!”

A lot of people are outliers!

“It's basic biology!”

Maybe basic does not cut it. What are even your credentials?

“I'm armed with common sense.” 

Your common sense isn't making sense. It always leaves someone behind!

“Who cares about them? They are all outliers!” 

Sounds to me that, for you, the only woman is you: 

Blonde, 

Blue eyed, 

With childbearing ability 

And money to spare! 

If you made it by selling fantasy books, what authority do you even have?

You choose over the professionals:

You choose over scientists,

You choose over anthropologists,

You choose over other cultures' expressions!

“And I shall keep choosing onward.

 I have the money.

 I have the power.

 I have the lords.

 I have the commons.

From now on, I'll choose where you are supposed to pee.”

You may have the money,

You may have the power,

You may have the commons,

You may have the lords.

But I'm done.

No more politeness. 

No more submission.

If you won't reason, only I can answer 

Where I'll pee?

 I'll pee in the men's room.

I'll pee in the bars, I'll pee in the pub, I'll pee in the cinema

And some day, when the time comes:

I'll piss on your grave.

October 2025

Numantia

 

Lucía Hernández Rodríguez

No one fights unless there’s something

to fight for. Thus

no war is crueler than one’s own

—bland poetry, for a start—.

When mind and desire collide

and spit every instance of spark;

stark ash, She burns up those walls

I never meant to trace on our plan

—never meant to be ours, at all—.

 

Gold-dipped steel is still, by all means,

Cheap, and lack of elegance buys nothing

but a pity glance at lack of gleam;

at lack of twinkle on my opaque glass,

fragile as the voice with which I yearn it back.

Turns out stars don’t last that much.

 

Swords against missiles and leather vest

against damp, porcelain grenades.

 

But it’s no use destroying ruins

nor painting never-ending bloody layers

on a ripped canvas no longer hanging

inside our home.

That in which I never meant to melt

—never meant to share one bed, at all—.

 

Toss your head and hear me drop:

hear me fall apart and turn into dust.

Hear, then, how swallowed my dust

Inside ends up your misty hurricane,

which, in the end, I

never meant to make mine.

 

For good, war was never meant to end.

 

Meet my lifeless corpse and, mocking woe,

whisper that you never meant to take me,

at all.

October 2025

 

Fall In Line

Paula Fernández Lombardero

Once and again

feeling like I’m falling.

Once and again

feeling like I’m lonely.

You got what you need

me, bending on my knee.

You got what you want

a woman to fall apart.

It’s time for me to understand

that we are not made to fall in line.

A finding place

Dear Students,

Today I thought I'd share this quotation with you to thank you for all those wonderful poems you've written. Some have been published already, others are about to be published. They've all been a pleasure to read.

Soon I'll let you know what the next challenge is going to be. Read the drama excerpts and start getting ready for it!

In the meantime, enjoy Jeanette Winterson's words on poetry.

All the best,

Carolina




      So when people say that poetry is a luxury, or an option, or for the educated middle classes, or that it shoudln't be read at school because it is irrelevant, or any of the strange and stupid things that are said about poetry and its place in our lives, I suspect that the people doing the saying have had things pretty easy. A tough life needs a touch language -- and that is what poetry is. That is what literature offers -- a language powerful enough to say how it is.
      It isn't a hiding place. It is a finding place.

(Jeanette Winterson, Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal? London: Vintage Books, 2011, p. 40)

Breathe

Malena Margarita Alonso García

I hear a sound

Panic appears

Every step is faster

I look at my bag

And grab my keys

He's closer now

I feel him behind

But he just passes by my side

And disappears on the night

And finally

I can breathe again

Real Romanticism

María Fernández Trava

"You should try to be more romantic, my dear"

You tell me looking fondly into my eyes, but

What do you mean by that?

Is it always saying the same words?

Is it always moving the same way?

Is it having the same dream as "every woman should have"?

Getting married

Having children

Taking care of them

And that's all?

Well, I'm sorry

If what I search for are true emotions

With their spontaneity and originality

I'm sorry, darling

For not being what You expect me to be

I'm sorry, but

You should try to be more Romantic, my dear.

News of the World

Gabriela Pascual Berros

Coming home

Watching the news

An earthquake in the so-called Third World

Nobody knew

Promoting racism and hate

Fake patriots covered in flags

Journalists do not dare to call them Fascists

Although it is just a simple fact

The right keeps on cutting rights

The left and trade unions

They have lost hope

That is why the working class is giving up the revolution

And also not using its vote

Politicians and the Pope

Still deciding over women’s bodies

Of course the cannot work

They should only change nappies

Now, us the young

We have a decision to make

On if we want to preserve this system

Or throw it all away

So would we rather riot over a society

Which causes nothing but pain

Or to leave this world quietly

Without shouting any complaint?

Free Election

Natalia García Bonilla

It was primary colour,

principal colour

associated to the intensity

to the fruit of passion

the fiery red or the infernal red.

He had fallen in love

with the purity and delicacy.

He fell in love with a neutral

that was married with the black

that kept her prisoner

in the yin and yang,

in the footsteps of zebra, and did not allow her to pass.

Their children were grey,

prisoners of hardships with few joys to tell.

They wanted to cut impurities without more,

they wanted laugh days and did not have darkness

anymore.

The red in a picture invited the white to dance

and white proposed to red a leak to a range of happiness.

White abandoned black and his damn darkness

that kept her prey of fear and insecurity.

White and red were married and a “very special” pink was born,

because people called it a girl for the reason of that stupid social code.

It felt like a boy and it did not want to be anything else

than what he felt in his heart,

even though others did not understand that there is free choice.

                                                                                            

For Being a Woman

Elisa Suárez Suárez

I don´t want to take care

of people being aware

if my skirt is ankle lenght (or not)

only for being a woman.

I don´t want to be afraid

when a Saturday night party ends

and depend on my male friends

to arrive home safe

only for being a woman.

I want to be my owner.

Don´t need to be brave,

but free,

but me.

And if I have to be honest,

and I will,

you have supposed,

I am glad to be a woman.

                                

                             

Dear class of 2018-2019,

Welcome to Campus El Milán and to English Studies! And welcome to out LITIN Blog too!

I'd like to invite you to contribute to our blog with a POEM in which you denounce a situation, a practice, or whatever it is that you are not happy about. The poem should be written in English and does not need to be long or complex from a formal point of view.

I'm attaching a link to some poems from Indo-Canadian poet Rupi Kaur's Milk and Honey collection, published in 2015. In them she denounces cultural norms, beauty standards, taboos, and other aspects she is uncomfortable with. You can use them as inspiration for your own poem. Or you can use any other poet you are a fan of.

I'm soo looking forward to reading your poems!!!

Best wishes,

Carolina

Rupi Kaur reads some poems from _Milk and Honey_