I am a Girl

I am a girl. I am the girl who puts on her shoes and walks out the door in the morning. Who doesn’t see the sun until the end of the walkway. Come, walk beside me. For I share my thoughts with those who are inquisitive. And those whose knowledge is requisite. And those whose opinions are prerequisite. For the girls who see the sun, it comes at a cost of makeup smears and stubbed toes and observation. And sneakers set aside for the afternoon. When the sun reaches its apex, I run. For the sake of the other girls, I laugh. I am a girl and, yet, I stand tall. When I tire, I stop. When I tire, I faint. Come, catch me. Give me the hobbies, the titles, the reputations, the jokes that are yours. I run until I tire.- because I can’t sit and watch the others. For you, I do nothing. I am a girl. Carry not what may catch my attention. Push not what may shove me in return. Walk not beside one whose mind does not capture you. For the steady pace of a runner’s heart must reach a point of strength and constancy, as a woman’s must. Stop one action and one pace continues. When I tire, my heart keeps beating.

I am a girl. I am the girl who links arms with the cynics and skips down the hall. Gossiping. I talk to the quiet ones. They know what goes unsaid due to gag rules and degenerate clauses. Look at me. Look how I study the habits of the proud and exhausted. When silence is uncomfortable, the innocence shatters. I am a girl and, yet, I am loud. When I feel, I speak. When I feel, I yell. Those who care not to listen can hear a whisper just as well. I was told that objectively, men make better hosts because a microphone can more easily pick up the frequencies of their voices. I guess I must yell. For the evenings grow long and dark and the fire alarms scream and yelling sounds more urgent. People need guidance. And neighbors ignore a frantic “help!” when all windows would be rolled down after a mild “fire!” Listen to me. I observe the thoughts of the insignificant and the disbelieved because I hear a warning in the shadows. I don’t start the rumors. I am a girl. Call me dumb. Call me shy. Call me pretty. But accuse me not and I shall not indict you.

I will be heard above the sirens. Hiding together in the dark can only mean refusal of a thousand years of inquisition. For the brightest diamonds have spent years unacknowledged and unimpaired; upon discovery, they are much more coveted. I am a girl, and my future is bright. I will write. I will run. I will say. I am a girl and I use their actions to relate my story, but will not remain silent.