From the beginning I was Daughter.
From the beginning I was stamped
with a Times New Roman “F” for female.
My future laid out: to tread the line
like a tightrope walker, wavering between
too weak and too strong,
too quiet and too bold,
too optimistic and too pessimistic,
too proud and too ashamed,
too prudish and too sultry,
too beautiful and too ugly,
too feminine and too brave.
Like every “F” before me,
I was stamped with the destiny to tiptoe down a pearly aisle,
traded from one man to another, giving way from
Daughter to Wife to Mother.
I was taught to carry dolls like my future children,
learning how to nurture, to care, to love
while my brother set up armies from the other end of the room.
I was stamped as property to fate,
told I could be loved only if I complied.
But you offer me an alternative destiny.
You hand me a pen and ream of paper, demanding that I write.
You scribbled out the demands of destiny and offered me
the steering wheel. It’s a daunting freedom;
I was never taught how to drive. But you tell me to breathe
offer support, and for just a moment my fear evaporates.
From the beginning I was stamped, my future written,
But today I stamp myself, a golden “F” for female. Both
too weak and too strong,
too quiet and too bold,
too optimistic and too pessimistic,
too proud and too ashamed,
too prudish and too sultry,
too beautiful and too ugly,
too feminine and too brave.