Where do I martyr myself? I ask And I come up blank I listen to my mother talk to a potential marketing team For her political campaign Republican And I find me there The little martyr Writing poetry in her Mother’s kitchen An artistic soul Poor artistic soul Being so good So humble and just Looking so inward Daring to challenge herself Against the backdrop of oppression Religion Shame Republicans You see my mom doesn’t believe anyone is gay And I am bisexual She thinks parents should be involved in children’s education and schooling And as a child she abused me with her conservative ideals and punishments And yet I love her anyway Here is the martyr The brave little progressive Here I am In this beautiful kitchen Cooking breakfast from groceries I didn’t pay for In a house I don’t pay for And yet I find myself feeling Utterly self righteous In my sensitivity In my progressive ideals Even in my forgiveness of her slights against me Even as the so called forgiven slights stand up and wave their flags readily and say “remember me! remember me!” Even as my records shout that it’s not safe to forgive Because you see her personal views make me feel Uncomfy The martyr runs wild in the spaces Where I forget my privilege I’ve never known my privilege to be so great As I know it to be now And my level of privilege has not evolved or dipped or lifted a hair But I’ve been given the opportunity to be aware And I do believe I’m brave But my martyr live on the extremes My martyr lives in the narrative Around my choices In the narratives I fabricate around other peoples beliefs and behaviors and choices The little martyr lays down and disappears For now I’m sure she will reappear and pick up her flag later today or tomorrow When I try on a pair of pants And marvel at the way I used to suffer so Oh, how much I have overcome To now enjoy my body and not hate every dimple and curve I see that my martyr thrives not only In the blindness to my privilege But also in the agreement to recall suffering It gets caught somewhere between A decision to not suffer today And a decision to always compare todays lack of suffering to the ways I have suffered in the past Because agreeing to forget the suffering Takes trust Much much trust That in forgetting I will not Fall back into the familiar arms of suffering and abuse But I think those days are past I am brave and smart And I know a good thing when I see it No need to hit me over the head Maybe the martyr dies a little more today As I sign a new agreement to Not suffer today and to also detach from past sufferings With blowing breeze that tickles my back On this late spring day When all I need to do is enjoy