A Poem to My Daughter: Holy and Blameless

A Poem from a Mom

As she is, culture tells her, two things:

Two seemingly contradictory things.

Two expectations.

Be a change maker, mature beyond her years, responsible for weaving

The fabric of society.

And be a sexual object; serve the needs of others

With no agency, yet:

Blamed for failure.

Fractured by conflict, disconnect,

She opts out.

Makes (she thinks) the only available move.

Falls into the path that spares her

From sexual predation. 

The path that promises a solution to her adolescent distress.  

She will be comfortable in her own skin.  

She will (she thinks) be her TRUE SELF.  

There is, though, a terrible cost.

Like spun gold for her first born child;

A future, a life, sold for the immediacy of a utopian dream.

Sterilizing poisons, removal of body parts.

Erasure of the past, her foundation.

The old her (the real her) gone.

Now —

She is (she thinks) contradiction-free.

Not realizing the conflict is… life.

The human condition is duality,

Whether woman or man.

Contradiction and conflict,

Complexity, nuance, responsibility.

But not sexual servitude.

Nor implicit condemnation.

That should never have been

Her burden.

Now Holy trans;

She is free…

From judgement or criticism.

From objectification.

She is anointed; she is saved.