Here You Go: A Collection of Garbage and Other Things

I am that girl

I am the girl in the corner sobbing because the boys wouldn't let her play.

I am the woman walking fast after dark, breathing heavily and clutching her purse because she hears faint footsteps following her.

I am the teenager sitting in the principal's office, being told that my clothing distracts boys.

I am the child bride married off to a man twenty, thirty, forty years older than me.

I am the pregnant mother struggling to finish college; forced to carry a fetus that I do not want.

I am your mother, your sister, your aunt, your friend, your daughter, your grandmother, your teacher, your wife, your girlfriend, and I am oppressed.

I flinch when boys casually drape an arm around my shoulders, when they lean in close, because I've heard too many stories.

I shrink when my college professor raises his voice in anger, because I've been raised with the ideal of men equalizing power and violence.

I concede when me and my boyfriend argue, because who am I without a man to lean on?

I am your mother, your sister, your aunt, your friend, your daughter, your grandmother, your teacher, your wife, your girlfriend, and I am afraid.

I compliment another girl on her dress after boys have broken her down with names like 'tease' and 'slut'.

I stand up and speak about equality, about the future we can only dream of when men and women, boys and girls, when everyone is equal.

I befriend the lonely girl who sits by herself, the one with the raspy voice and tired eyes.

I am your mother, your sister, your aunt, your friend, your daughter, your grandmother, your teacher, your wife, your girlfriend, and I am my own person.