Wednesday, May 7, 2014
Girl: Old and Gay
(This was a slam-style poem written for a Women's Studies Project)
The air I breathe reeks of youth and men and straight.
The air I breathe blows east, then west, then east again.
The wind in my trees howls its angry message; “You are too old, too female, too gay.”
The wolf at my door huffs and puffs, and tries to blow my house in.
But I am no Straw Pig, no Stick Swine!
I am built of red bricks,
Forged in the fires of
Catholic Church, School and Religion.
I am steel, tempered in the fires of
Fear and furtivity.
Proper and prosperity.
I was young and weak.
Now I am old and strong,
Stronger than words,
Stronger than looks,
Stronger than pre-conceived ideas of what a Woman,
A Gay Woman,
An Old, Gay, Woman -- should look like.
I fit no bill, act in ways no one understands.
I am an enigma.
For how can a mother, a white-haired, small-boned, mini-muscled mother
Be all that?
I am that!
I revel in that!
I celebrate the lines in my face
Just as surely as I rail against the lines
Drawn in the sands of the narrow-minded men
Who would vote me off their Island
To be replaced by the Young, the Ripe, and the Restless!
I tell you,
You, who will listen,
There is Awesomeness in Old.
There is Glory in Gay.
And there is Wonder in every Woman who ever walked
The breadth and scope of this Wide, Wide World.
Her celebration begins today.