Arlington, VA—August 5, 2025
Gival Press is pleased to announce that R. S. Weldon of Fairfax, Virginia has won the 24th Annual Gival Press Oscar Wilde Award-2025 for the poem titled On Visibility, chosen anonymously by the judge, Jendi Reiter. The award includes a $500.00 cash prize, and the poem will be published both on the Gival Press website and in ArLiJo, its online journal.
On Visibility
In the folklore and mythology lesson
I’m teaching to a class of unwilling eighth graders,
we learn that there are sometimes monsters
that are only a threat when you acknowledge them.
Spirits who stay benign as long as you don’t
make eye contact, don’t speak to them-
or at least don’t signal that you know what they are.
The idea persists across time and culture.
In New Orleans, if a ghostly passenger
boards your taxi cab, the best thing to do
is to pretend they are a normal customer
and drop them off where they ask to go.
I think that maybe these are the rules
to my invisibility.
Every day, I put on men’s clothes.
I pull the stiff nylon and spandex of a binder
over my chest, breathe a sigh of relief,
apply testosterone gel, let it dry
while I brush my teeth.
I run fingers coated in styling wax
briefly through the short crop of hair.
I fasten my belt, I tie the laces
of leather dress shoes,
and I walk into a world
where all day I am referred to
as a woman.
They can’t not know
I tell myself, as I sit in meetings
and teach at the front of a classroom.
I have never lied, never misled.
Never hid the deepening rumble.
I simply changed in front of them
and never said anything.
And they’ve never asked.
Because they can’t ask, can they?
That’s the secret to my safety.
If I never ask for anything,
there is nothing they can deny.
I’m playing a game of transitioning chicken-
as soon as they ask the question,
they’ve violated the intricate social code
built and maintained by years
of cultural “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.”
I’m a ghost in your taxi cab,
and now we both have to honor
the social script. You’ll have to drop me off
on Bourbon Street. I promise to pay my fare.
And how far can I take it?
Can I show up in the fall post top surgery?
What tits? What are you talking about?
I never had tits. What a preposterous question.
If I was a trans man, maybe I could
gaslight my entire building
into acting as if I’ve always
had the name Rory, used he/him pronouns,
been one of the guys. I could grow a beard.
But I live in a space of self
where “passing,” whatever it means,
can’t even be on the objective list.
There aren’t any social scripts
for addressing your nonbinary teacher,
but there’s plenty of precedent
for accusing your child’s school
of indoctrinating them into a life
of gender confusion.
And so I spend Monday through Friday
responding to Mrs. and ma’am,
letting people’s gaze glide over me,
letting them see whatever
is most convenient for them to see.
Whatever challenges them least.
Tomboy, nerd girl, eccentric, lesbian.
The female English teacher
down the hall saying she wishes
she could pull off the “pixie cut” like I do,
even once I start to grow
a wispy teen-boy mustache.
On Trans Day of Visibility,
I wear my masculinity
like a camouflage jumpsuit.
I tighten the patterned tie around the collar
of my starchy dress shirt.
My principal looks at me with desperate eyes,
like he’s on the verge of a question
that can’t be asked,
and I walk through the doorway to a classroom
with the name “Mrs. Weldon”
helpfully affixed over the threshold,
and I don’t turn back.
Copyright © 2025 by R. S. Weldon.
About the Poet
R.S. Weldon is a special education English teacher who works with middle school students with emotional and learning disabilities in northern Virginia. They have written poetry as a lifelong hobby and enjoy performing at open mic events in DC, where they also volunteer with organizations serving the local LGBTQ community.
Photo: Copyright © 2025 by Emily Whitaker.
About the Judge
Jendi Reiter is the author of five poetry books and chapbooks, most recently Made Man (Little Red Tree); the novels Two Natures and Origin Story, both from Saddle Road Press; and the story collection An Incomplete List of My Wishes (Sunshot Press). Their poetry collection Introvert Pervert is forthcoming from The Word Works in January 2026. Awards include the 2024 Gival Press Oscar Wilde Award, the 2025 Saints & Sinners Literary Festival Award for Poetry, the Rainbow Award for Best Gay Contemporary Novel, and two poetry fellowships from the Massachusetts Cultural Council. They are the editor of the writing resource site WinningWriters.com.
Finalists
Tik Tok
by Robert Cataldo of Providence, RI
The Switch
by Bryan Monte of Amsterdam, Holland
Shenandoah
by J. G. Simiński of Studio City, CA
Still, We Are Sacred
by Emanuel Xavier of Staten Island, NY
