One day, when your daughter
is 15. She is going to come home
and ask why on earth would she have
to straight her gorgeous big hair
to be considered professional or elegant.
You won"t have answers.
Because you did not
want us to talk. You just
wanted to spend the night
putting your body parts
in my mouth.
When she comes home,
bruised by supremacy
and hurt by the things
people say about the shape
of her nose. You won"t know
how to console her. Sure,
you will tell her she is beautiful.
But that will not be enough.
She is going to question
her beauty. Or why she isn"t pretty
in the way Taylor Swift is pretty.
You won"t know what to say,
Because when I tried to break down
power for you. You called
me an angry feminist.
You called me a men hater.
You called me mad.
One day,
you won"t find the words
to explain identity to your daughter
because when I put the topic
up for dialogue. All you could say
was that it was all in the mind.
One day your daughter will be 15
and you will remember our fights,
and you will remember me.
How, I tried to prepare you for this,
but you were too busy being
a man, to remember you are a father
too.
