Dear J

Rules to Age 11

Wash your hands after using the bathroom, before using the bathroom if you’ve been outside first, before dinner, after playing with any toys, instruments, or feeding your fish. Even if you’re about to take a bath, if you’ve just done

any of those things, wash your hands first. With soap.
Use the back door to come and go. Use the front door for guests.
Except Keith Outlaw, who is Black. If Keith Outlaw absolutely has to be
your brother’s guest, use the back door only to let him in
or out.
Ring the silver bell once only
for Millie to bring something from the kitchen
during dinner.
Do not make a mess
making lunch.
Breakfast can be any cereal except Count Chocula, but don’t make any
noise preparing it Especially important
zero noise getting ready
for school so you don’t wake mom. 

 If mom is also asleep after school, don’t make noise then either.

 Don’t talk about dad.

 Unless you want to talk about him in a bad way; then comments permitted
and encouraged.

 Don’t interrupt. Especially
when mom is complaining about dad. Don’t interrupt
even if you think mom’s not speaking, she’s merely
inhaling her Virginia Slims Menthol
for a pause, and isn’t done
speaking. Just wait until she exhales
her smoke
and continues what she wants to say.

 Don’t tell the doorman,
the elevator man,
the super, or the men
in the garage to call you
by your first initial. It’s not proper they must address
you as “Miss” even
if it makes your throat burn
and skin itch.

Don’t hide in the closet where dad left
his stuff when he moved out. You’re not allowed
in there under any circumstances even though all you
want to do is stand very still
in his shoes
fish around his pockets for loose change and smell
hard
the cigars still
in the box.

 Don’t ask about sex. Don’t ask about being
Jewish. Don’t ask about a psychiatrist, even
though Richard Bienen sees one and says it’s fun.

Don’t ask again about having a dog. 

Make eye contact. Shake hands hard, like
you mean it. Speak in a clear voice.

 Read the news article taped to your bathroom mirror and be ready
to discuss it at dinner. Do not mention the article
if no one brings it up.

Sit like a lady. Walk like a lady. Carry a purse even
though it feels like death must feel. Let mom put lipstick on
you even though you look like The Joker in Batman in it (even
though you like watching Batman and think you could grow up
to be Robin)

Stop slouching. Stop dragging
your feet. Stop putting your hands
in your pockets. Stop speaking
in a low voice. Stop cracking
your knuckles. Stop biting
your nails short. Stop wearing
your hair like that. Stop scratching. Stop spitting. Stop—

no boys sneakers. No boys backpacks No
short ski jackets No
blazers with inside pockets No
tube socks No
aftershave No
collars up No
button-downs No button
fly jeans Stop
asking why
you can’t dress like Stop
wondering
why you can’t
be
like who you are.

-J Brooke

J Brooke (They/e) won Columbia Journal’s 2020 Nonfiction Award for their autobiographical essay, “HYBRID”, in the Womxn’s History Month Special Issue. Their work has appeared in The Normal School, The Harvard Review, The Maine Review, Bangalore Review, and others and is upcoming in The Massachusetts Review and The Fiddlehead. Brooke was Nonfiction Editor of the Stonecoast Review while receiving an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Southern Maine. Brooke currently resides with their spouse Beatrice on land stolen from the Hammonasset People.