Poem:
It cannot help but happen.
The way we are, from the youngest of ages,
told who we are.
And then told and told and told.
Pretty. Smart. Angry. Tomboy. Princess. Slut. Needy.
Too much. Not enough.
Problem. Dangerous. Stupid. Unable to do wrong.
Another's ideas and ideologies, their needs and hopes and fears,
their language and definition,
all thrust upon your own body and being.
Who we were told we were or had to be became a silencing,
and there is a woman in us who longs to speak free.
Prompt:
Who were you once told you were or had to be?
Who are you now told that you are or must be?
What are the names given to you by another,
and what might it be like to spit them out
and swallow your own self sovereignty?
YOU ARE READING
The Identity Session
Non-FictionThis is not a typical Wattpad story. Beginning on July 5th, 2016 and continuing for a week, I'll post a poem, followed by writing prompts to The Identity Session. Respond to all or any of the prompts that inspire you from each day, either by in-line...
