The idea of being a feminist is not new to me.
I was destined to be one, or perhaps that was the most
shocking thing I could have become.
Having grown up in the South where everything was all
etiquette and lady like. Where my father lorded over my mom
as if she were property, an indentured servant of sorts,
destined to do his dirty, his emotional work,
his housework,
his all work.
It’s always the reins that put me off. That direct link to slavery.
A master designing a halter especially for his slave. Adjustable.
I was certain I’d never see him again. We had moved to different states. Remnants of him remained in my life; an autographed birthday present, spirit-wear from not-my-college, low self-esteem, anxiety.
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There will come a time when,
with great despair
and hope,
you will kneel and beg forgiveness.
I hear the sinners sing
my soul,
mercy
he mourns for a
benevolence
replayed on my radio.