They say that offspring resembles the breeders
both physically and mentally
but when I speak their faces darken
and when they speak I get upset.
I resemble them physically
but you can not tell that I am their daughter
if you look at us mentally.
Every conversation is a battle.
My father is the textbook conservative.
Pro-life and pro-guns
Anti-gay and microagressive.
How am I his daughter?
My mother is a follower.
A doe to her deer.
A foe in my fears.
How am I her daughter?
Standing 5 foot 8 in a pair of slacks
instead of a dress there's me.
The feminist.
The human rights activist.
My father calls me a communist.
My mother thinks I'm crazy.
I'm not a communist but a libertarian.
Funny how that's confused.
I march on in my combat boots.
My mother disapproving.
My father asking me if I just came back
from a Pearl Jam concert.
I march on with my feminist ways.
Spreading the word of equality as often as I can.
Telling the micro-aggressors to stop.
Questioning the Christians and the anti-gays.
I march on with my sense of style.
I don't care if I don't look feminine today.
I don't feel feminine today.
My mother's shaming me in the distance.
I march on with my tattoos and choppy hair.
My mother crying and my father angry.
They are anti-tattoo and anti-individualistic.
I don't deserve their shame.
I march on with who I am.
Because although I am their offspring
they can not change who I am.
No matter how hard they try.
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 10:49 PM UTC
They say that offspring resembles the breeders
both physically and mentally
but when I speak their faces darken
and when they speak I get upset.
I resemble them physically
but you can not tell that I am their daughter
if you look at us mentally.
Every conversation is a battle.
My father is the textbook conservative.
Pro-life and pro-guns
Anti-gay and microagressive.
How am I his daughter?
My mother is a follower.
A doe to her deer.
A foe in my fears.
How am I her daughter?
Standing 5 foot 8 in a pair of slacks
instead of a dress there's me.
The feminist.
The human rights activist.
My father calls me a communist.
My mother thinks I'm crazy.
I'm not a communist but a libertarian.
Funny how that's confused.
I march on in my combat boots.
My mother disapproving.
My father asking me if I just came back
from a Pearl Jam concert.
I march on with my feminist ways.
Spreading the word of equality as often as I can.
Telling the micro-aggressors to stop.
Questioning the Christians and the anti-gays.
I march on with my sense of style.
I don't care if I don't look feminine today.
I don't feel feminine today.
My mother's shaming me in the distance.
I march on with my tattoos and choppy hair.
My mother crying and my father angry.
They are anti-tattoo and anti-individualistic.
I don't deserve their shame.
I march on with who I am.
Because although I am their offspring
they can not change who I am.
No matter how hard they try.
Request permission to use this poem