I used to cry at night,
Thinking of all the girls I know.
Id go to dance class,
And hug the tiny bunheads to my chest
Telling them their pirouettes were beautiful
Telling them they were worth something
I'd sit on the porch at my fathers house,
Watching my half sister make mud pies,
And feel protesting tears fall down my cheeks,
Knowing one day she'd look at her brown eyes
In the cracked bedroom mirror
And sigh,
Wishing they were ice blue like the girls from school.
I wanted to make her feel worth something
So I would play her Brown Eyed Girl,
And her chocolate irises would sparkle.
I'd think of all the girls who had confessed to me
In early morning, up all night, quiet, cracked and almost crying tones,
How their uncle, how their brother,
Their boyfriend
Their cousin
Their best friend
Their boss
Their dad
Had touched them and kissed them,
How they'd kept the secret buried in their chest,
Under a lump in their throat
And I wanted to tell them they were worth something.
I used to cry at night,
Thinking of all the girls I know.
I don't cry anymore,
Not because uncles and brothers have stopped touching,
Not because brown eyes became blue,
Not because the sin and the anger and the pain is gone,
But because I know girls -
I know pink ribbons.
I know pirouettes,
I know brown eyes
I know rom coms,
I know sleepovers,
I know red lipstick.
Because I know girls,
I know strength.
I know resilience.
I know bravery and anger and fight,
I know warmth and sunshine
I know love and nurture
I know waking up at seven a.m.,
Feeling capable
I know smiling my braced teeth at all the girls at the orthodontist who feel ugly for not being perfect,
I know holding hands in cinema parking lots,
I know friendship.
Because I know girls,
I know strength.