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If I Should Have a Daughter (a counter-poem to Sarah Kay’s original)
If I should have a daughter, instead of harsh reprimands, I will explain, reason, because she needs to know that no matter what happens, she deserves answers. And I’m going to teach her how to depend on herself, her will, so she doesn’t need anyone to lean on when she’s too tall for me to carry her.
And she is going to learn that her life is hers and hers alone, not that boy’s or that teacher’s or her father’s or even mine, and that the apple tastes twice as sweet when she’s climbed the tree of her own will, and not with someone else’s permission. There will be people who will question her and try to smooth her rough edges. So the first time she comes home quieted by someone who doesn’t know the flowers she can grow with her tongue, I’ll make sure that person feels the ice I can shoot from mine. Because no matter how compact you can squish yourself, there will always be a smaller box to fit into when you deserve to expand and take up a whole room. I know, I’ve been there.
“And daughter,” I’ll tell her, “don’t ever lose the feeling of what the word ‘no’ feels like in your mouth, not for any person. It’s not your job to nod your head and look pretty and be presentable. Your job is to hold onto the core of who you are like a sword, and never to give away a piece of yourself to someone who likes you better when you’ve been trimmed down to size, because they won’t always give it back.” But I know the world will try to shave off her spikes, so instead I’ll show her how to cross her arms and plant her feet and speak loudly without apology. Because turning the other cheek never can solve anything. Okay, maybe it solves a few things. But that’s what her sword is for, when her words have failed her after being choked in tears. I want her to feel pride, to love herself, because there isn’t always a guarantee that someone out there (besides me) is going to. I want her to be unafraid to stomp on words like ‘mild’ and 'tamed’ if they don’t fit her, like my momma never taught me. There’ll be days like that. There’ll be days like this, but no one ever told me. When it feels wrong and dirty to love and be loved; when you think you’re only worth something if you can cross your ankles and smile for a boy; when you want with all of your heart to mold yourself like clay, to harden into a statue of the Young Lady, because you feel unwelcome in your skin.
And those are the very days when you have all the more reason to open your mouth. Because there is nothing more beautiful than your thoughts spun into words, no matter how many times someone tries to quiet you or turn you away. You will put the me in unashamed, the able in lovable, no matter what. And no matter how many hands push you towards some ideal that isn’t who you are, be sure that your mind lands on the irrevocable power of loving yourself passionately. And yes, on a scale from one to radical, I’m burning bras left and right. But I want her to know that the world is made of rosebushes. They smell so sweet, and don’t be afraid to walk among them so long as you protect yourself from the thorns.
“Love,” I’ll tell her, “Remember, there’s lightning in your mind and iron in your veins, and you are made of stardust, bound together by immeasurable force.” Remember that the right thing is always hard to do, but so are some of the wrong things. And always apologize for someone who’s been pushed down like they tried to force you. But don’t you ever apologize for your sharp tongue just because it intimidates someone with its cutting edge.
Your teeth are small, but they are sharp in your mouth. And when they finally knock you off of your feet, when they slip doubt and double-standards to you in your drink and try to force feed you pre-conceived notions about what it means to be a woman, you remember everything you learned from your mother.
-fin-
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Anonymous
