"you are a young lady. don’t cross your legs like that.”

i am a girl. i will sit how i want to.

“you are a young lady. don’t curse like that.”

i am a girl. i will express my thoughts and feelings however i please.

“you are a young lady. don’t laugh like that.”

i am a girl. i will let joy erupt from my mouth unapologetically, as lava does from a volcano.

“you are a young lady. don’t dress like that.”

i am a girl, and you cannot dictate how i choose to present myself. i will wear what i feel comfortable and confident in.

“you are a young lady. don’t be so easily offended like that.”

i am a girl. i am only offended because your sense of humor relies on tearing other people down and apart, and i will not take part in it, because destruction is not funny.

“you are a young lady. don’t be controlling like that.”

i am a girl. by being “bossy and controlling”, i am taking up a leadership position, which i will do happily time and time again.

“you are a young lady. don’t disrespect a man like that.”

i am a girl. i will not give you respect unless you do something to earn it. your position/status as a man does not automatically grant you respect, nor will it ever. i don’t owe you anything.

“you are a young lady. don’t be a slut or sleep around like that.”

i am a girl, and i refuse to accept your double standards. i will have sex when i want to, with whomever i want to.

“you are a young lady. don’t talk back like that.”

i am a girl. i will not sit back and let you insult or demean me or those i care about. i will talk back if you are saying something offensive.

“you are a young lady. man up. don’t be weak like that.”

i am a girl. i will not man up. my strength lies in my ability to be vulnerable, and my ability to reach out for help when i need it.

and contrary to what you might believe,

to be a girl is to be fierce,

is to be kind, is to be gentle,

is to be soft, is to be compassionate,

is to be graceful, is to be hopeful,

is to be bright, is to be daring,

is to be charismatic, is to be captivating,

is to be inspirational, is to be influential,

is to be powerful.

there is zero weakness to be found in my femininity.

i am a girl and i am proud.

often, i am told that i am

too emotional that i laugh

too loud that i am

too opinionated that i get

too excited about certain things that i care

too much that i apologize

too often that i cry

too easily that i take up

too much space.

and i’ve absorbed those things for

too long,

let them become a vital part of who i am.

but i am sick, and tired,

of shrinking myself down for people

that would much rather i stay small

than watch me grow.

dear boys in my grade,

i will not stop being emotional,

i will not stop being empathetic.

i will not stop crying over people that i have never, will never meet.

i will not stop grieving over the pain that other people are forced to endure,

knowing that i can’t do anything about it.

dear dad,

i will not quiet down, not for you, not for any man,

nor anyone, for that matter.

dear man that i’m supposed to marry,

i will not change myself for you.

i will not stop being passionate about social justice,

will not stop being a feminist,

will not stop caring about womens’ rights.

but i will continue to rise up,

and use my voice to speak up

i will unapologetically take up space, and i

will thrive.

My hips are but a resting place,

My clothes are

an invitation.

My breasts are daisies,

easy to grab and pick.

My body is a mannequin,

on display for all to see.

My body is an occupied land,

which I have given up rights to.

My name has become Baby,

Sweet thang. Honey. Mamasita.

My legs are automatic doors,

opening for anyone

that wants to get in.

My arms are coils,

meant to be wrapped around

someone else's body.

My lips are strawberries,

sweet and ready to be devoured.

My eyes are black holes,

easy to get lost in;

but take a look at them anyways.

See me. See me. See me,

For what I am.

Because I used to be human.

i'm sorry for saying “you’re so pretty!”

when i first met you.

i paid attention to your superficial beauty before

bothering to notice your values, your worth.
 

but to be fair,

you are pretty.

pretty kind,

pretty fierce,

pretty loyal,

pretty intelligent,

pretty loving,

pretty brave,

pretty creative,

pretty fun to be around.
 

and i’m pretty grateful

to have you in my life.

the problem with girls born with fiery souls

is that they are taught that they are the problem

by people too afraid of getting burned to be enamored

too afraid of being hurt to be in awe

of their magnificence.

so instead of shining brightly,

girls with fiery souls learn how to dim themselves down,

so as not to scorch those around them.

and the problem with girls born with fiery souls

who diminish themselves for too long

is eventually, their fire goes out,

and they are left with just embers and ashes.

and the people around them are happy because

they are no longer in danger.

but little do they know that

the problem with girls born with fiery souls

is that it takes just a spark to rekindle their flame.

they cannot, will not be stopped.

they will glow so fiercely, so strongly,

that even the sun would be jealous.

and contrary to what small-minded people

with kerosene hearts will try to say,

that is never, will never be

a problem.