Girlhood

They say girlhood is the universal

Experience;

Shaving each other’s vaginas

And clapping when a friend got her

First bra.

They say it’s all about the face masks and

The tampons and

The laughter and the hot boys

With the sexy abs,

But girlhood isn’t how I wanted it to be.

Girlhood is universal but mine was a

Form of living hell,

Girls laughing at my pink tees,

Pushing me down before they

Called me fat.

It was whispering behind my back

And yelling at me when I made

Small mistakes, and it was harsh 

And it wasn’t pure, and 

I didn’t feel loved like they said I would.

My momma told me to make the friends

And so I did, I made the friends

But I didn’t make the good ones,

I made the Idon’twanttobelonely,

Whycan’tIbelikeyouskinnygirls friends.

And I thought middle school would be a 

Whirlpool of social media and

School dances and hormonal crying

Because the cute boy you talked to

Once broke up with you.

Instead it was the “universal”:

“Mom, I’m gay”

“Mom, I cut myself”

“Mom, I want to die”

“Mom, they keep calling me fat”

I read in books about how they

Would swap clothes because they’re

All a size small and how they would dab

Makeup on each other’s faces

Because that would make them pretty;

And I saw movies where girls measured

Their hips and lit their skin on fire

And drank until they threw up, calling

Their enemy a whore and 

Fighting like a girl.

And my neighbors and the boys at school

And even my own father begged me to

Be more womanly; cross your legs when

You sit, don’t play football, eat less, wear

A dress, and don’t be emotional but still be tender.

So I covered up and I was quiet,

I didn’t talk to strangers but I didn’t

Talk to my parents, either,

Didn’t talk to my friends or my

Teachers or the pastor at church.

I didn’t cry, spent my tears on the blade

Because blood is better than water,

Right? I mean, they told me as a girl I’d be

Bleeding so often but I didn’t expect

It to be every night.

And I don’t think that’s what it was

Supposed to mean.

I don’t think girlhood was supposed

To hurt, but my God,

It does.

Where was my baking with heart trays

And where was my crying to happy songs;

And where was my mom to talk about love

And where were the girls who were

Supposed to love me?

After a while I found them but I’m scared

I never got enough, will I ever

Get enough? Was I enough,

When I was hurt and malnourished 

In life and love and food?

And maybe I had that cringe poetry

And I cried—but always alone,

And my mom talked about love

But she talked about how she saw

It in the hospital, not with her own husband.

I thought they would divorce before I 

Was ten; I hoped maybe the hurting

Would stop and life would be

Softer. Turns out adults just have

Strange ways of loving.

I wanted girlhood to be so much

More; I wanted the ripped jeans

With the skinny waists and

Katy Perry sing alongs.

God, I’m scared I grew up too fast.