Music and words are my thing. I love all forms of art. Tea is my favourite. Fashionable fox with flair. Cool hair.
When I was 10, I saw
my first episode of Law & Order, SVU
a woman screamed
and her pretty pink dress ripped
the scene cut to black but then
she sat in a station
hair mussed and mascara running
and she seemed broken
and empty
and that’s when I began to prepare
for the inevitable.
When I was 12, my sister got
hit on by a boy
he looked at her funny
and I couldn’t forget
how his eyes tracked
her pink t-shirt
around the room
he reminded me of the predators
that I saw on nature documentaries
and for the first time, my strong sister
seemed like the prey.
When I was 13, my auntie bought me
a pretty pink can of pepper spray
she told me if my daddy comes at me
or any other boy
I spray hard and fast
kick them in the balls
and then run run run
as fast as I can.
I flicked the safety switch
on-off, on-off
and clipped the can
to my purse.
When I was 14, I went to a sleepover
and met a boy named Jake
Jake was 18 and had tattoos
he smelled funny and his eyes
didn’t leave me all night.
He waited for me in the dark
outside of the bathroom
and I sprinted fast fast fast
and hid under a blanket.
Clutching my pretty pink can
and flicking the safety
on-off, on-off.
(I didn’t sleep that night)
When I turned 15, my mom took me
to buy some new bras.
I had to go up a cup
and I stared at the pretty pink tags
and told her that I knew
Knew that some day
that cup size
was going to get me in trouble.
She looked sad when she said
that it wouldn’t be the cup
but the men who’d take my body as an invitation.
(I didn’t see the difference)
No one ever talks
about the pretty pink can
on my purse.
No one ever mentions it
or asks about it
And I never get pulled aside in stores.
People’s eyes flick over it
dismiss it.
But what I want to know is;
How is it okay
for a kid like me
to have a weapon?
I’ll tell you how.
It’s because I’m a girl.
We’re trained since we hit puberty
for a war that no one wants to talk about
trained for horrible things
that people claim never happen
Or worse- “They happen for a reason”
we are told to be careful
we are told not to take walks after it’s dark
we are told to fight back to be compliant to yell and to stay silent
but nothing you tell us
ever works.
I don’t know how old I’ll be
when all of that advice
will be needed.
I don’t know how old I’ll be
when I’ll take a shower
and see blood mixing with white
running down the inside of my legs
swirling into a pretty pink cream
while I try to un-break myself.
I don’t when it’ll happen,
But I know that it will.
tomorrow or years from now-
and I’m scared.
But hey!
At least we girls look pretty in pink.
