A poem for females who are done reducing
I wear disobedience on my sleeves–
sewn from every “no” my mother swallowed,
every “yes” my sibling compelled,
every silence that pushed hefty versus generations of women that were told:
be small, be silent, be agreeable.
The world hands us an undetectable manual– “Great Girlhood 101”
Smile, even when you are damaging.
Remain relaxed, also when you are melting.
Bow your head, even when you know you were suggested to look the world in the eye.
We find out to flex up until our bones hurt,
to shrink up until our shadows forget us.
Yet I am tired of disguises.
Tired of being asked to fit into
a structure that can not hold my full, wild, disorderly, beautiful self.
So I shriek–
inside, externally, loudly, quietly,
till the echoes sew right into revolution.
Because also mentioning autonomy is viewed as physical violence,
also murmuring concerning boundaries is called pompousness,
and bold to require dignity is treated as battle.