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i was raised a girl by well-meaning generations and wounded dreamers. i was raised a girl by inevitable justifications and greedy schemers. i was raised a girl always too good a student for my own good— so i smile in the face of anger remain patient as if my life depended on it; so i listen to all sides and hide my unease when none listen to me; so i give because i have so much and never ask because i need nothing more. if i want more i couldn't say, so instead of demanding change i find it's easier to leave, leaving wounds that harden into ever thickening skin. i was raised a girl: my girl skin now so thick i can postpone feeling anything. now, i’m no girl. all of this is just an ingrained, stubborn stain that may fade but never go away, like a bloody heart on my sleeve. no, i'm no girl, but somewhere deep within me is a cell with a child inside who, when I open her cage, looks up at me and smiles bravely; yet somehow I know that when I close that door again she’ll

There was a light that use to shine so brightly. We would all gather around like moths to the flames. Somehow, we understood, that there was truth and power in our illumination. Even though we were only in our teens We knew our light would always shine the brightest. The older people could not grasp the magical mystical elements of our luminescent splendor. We realized that they were following a dim, dying flame. It could only shine by day and we knew it was taking them the wrong way. We would try to explain to older people what we had discovered but they didn’t understand. They were only interested in following the ways of their parents. They carried on the traditions of their past. They would scoff at the concept that we had found a new radiant light that could lead us all to a better world. You are just foolish children they would say, what do you know of life? Perhaps we did know little of their life but we grasped the new incandescent glow of a better life. This