-Katiee_m2.

We are four years old,

And we play in the sandpit

With trucks and dolls equally,

Our games loud and dirty.

That’s a boy’s toy

We are told,

And the truck is taken away.

We stay inside,

Play with our dolls,

Pink dresses and hair bows

We don’t cause trouble.

They’re so sweet,

A voice whispers.

We are nine years old,

Laughing loudly,

Our legs uncrossed,

Knees grubby.

A disapproving voice brings us up short.

That’s not ladylike.

We close our legs,

Stop laughing,

Sit quietly.

A voice praises us.

Such well behaved girls.

We are twelve years old

We play rugby,

Hair self consciously tied back with pink bows.

But the bows soon fall out,

And we are dirty and carefree again.

That’s quite a violent game for you girls.

We stop playing rugby,

Netball is just as good.

We find strength in a new sport.

But we are quieter,

And a voice comments;

Those girls are so dainty.

We are seventeen,

We wear makeup and dresses.

We go out to parties.

We embrace the roles we are forced into,

Claim them as our own.

We apply lipstick and for scholarships,

Strong in our own restrained way.

And yet,

Those girls dress like sluts

We still hear.

This time we do not stay inside.

We do not put our toy trucks away.

We take out our rugby ball

And we get dirty,

Mud wiping away a lifetime of gender roles.

We are not well-behaved girls.

We question our expectations;

Why must we be quiet?

Why must we be ladylike?

What about liking trucks was so wrong?

You told that silence was a virtue.

Femininity rewarded,

And loudness scorned.

You wondered why we were silent,

Here’s to the men who challenge society’s definition of masculinity… and the people who love them for it.  🥂  🍻

Unknown

Sharnay