TO BE A WOMAN

I am making my self-portrait in art class.

A boy asks me if I like pickles.

I say yes. He laughs. 

I am seven years old.

It takes me seven more to understand. 

 

I am working on my assignment in biology,

when a boy says I look like I suck d**k.

I hear it. He laughs.

I am fourteen years old.

This time, it takes me only seven seconds to understand. 

 

I am packing my clothes for a trip to India.

My mother tells me not to pack the miniskirt.

Men will stare. Maybe even grab, she says.

I am fifteen years old.

I've always been able to wear what I want. 

For the first time, I am scared of my own body. 

 

I am scrolling through Instagram on my phone.

A man comments “🍇 able” on a woman’s post.

I imagine he laughs from behind his screen. I am thankful it isn’t directed at me. 

I am sixteen years old. 

For the first time, I truly understand what it is to be a woman.