I still don’t get why I let society dictate changes to my natural state.
I had a good plan. The trees lined my exit from the backyard in majestic applause. I had found my rights of passage ceremony, my declaration to the neighborhood that I would be the equilibrium. My pop belly stood out as a began my protest, shirtless. I was young enough to reason the possible consequences, but emboldened by soon having to strap my chest to a brassiere. Why were my brothers and father able to walk around top less? Wasn’t I also hot from Florida’s unrelenting inferno? Did I not get to express my lackluster for wearing clothes? “I’ll show them.”
A budding feminist or visionary? Joseph’s bondage came after he had foolishly revealed himself to his siblings as their future ruler. Similarly, I could not reveal my identity. Somewhere, someday, space and time would give me my right to just be.
I still don’t get it 