When I Dated America
Location
Do you think they’ll notice?
Do you think they’ll notice how I
so carefully excuse myself before it’s time to eat?
Or that when I do, before I’m done, I’m out of my seat, on my feet, into the bathroom
fingers throat deep?
Do you think they’ll notice my teeth?
Chipped from accidents bent over pearl white porcelain
I feel like a slave to this
Will they notice corroding fingertips wizened by acid ripped through my esophagus
that drips from my bottom lip?
Do you think they’ll know I was doing this for you?
The person supposed to be my refuge from this country’s microscope
scanning me head to toe
dancing on my self-esteem like dosey-doe
so I’ll dream to look like a video hoe or sell me magazine's media clones
Girls all skin and bones
with their new nose
Your mother should have named you America
Will they know that 2 years, 4 months, 3 weeks, and 5 days brought me to this place?
Where I’d expect a slap in the face before a loving embrace
Because it’s true what they say:
You only accept the love you think you should take
So how did I get here?
Maybe it was your constantly reminding me that I was unworthy
Never to deserve the respect and love a young woman should be given
And maybe the media had you brainwashed too,
making you believe that beauty meant being pore less, hairless, and flawless
That thighs that rub together,
arms that move long after a wave goodbye,
and stretch marks that sprout and take over like kudzu made me ugly
Tainted
Your mother should have named you America
But I stayed with you
For 2 years, 4 months, 3 weeks and 5 days
Listening to you justify cheating
That the girls you were smashing should inspire me to get off my lazy ass
Because you chased the skirts I “couldn’t fit into”
And when you said “Fat girlfriends are not something to be proud of.”
Why did I stay with you?
Why did I try to mold myself after your bullshit ideals?
Maybe because you accept the love you believe you deserve
and that ain’t supposed to be much
if you’re a woman with curves...right?
But there was a moment
when you looked at me
as if you didn’t see a size 14 jean
We were lying on your bed
On the precipice of legs being spread and I thought
“He finally thinks I’m beautiful.”
But it was a moment short lived
You acknowledged the thighs that rubbed together,
arms that moved long after a wave goodbye
and stretch marks that sprouted up like kudzu and took over me
and told me to leave
That the last 2 years, 4 months, 3 weeks and 5 days were a waste
That before God made me
He had never made a mistake
Your mother should have named you America
And I wonder, do you think I’ll ever get your voice out of my head?
The one that plays on cue every time I want to look in a mirror and smile,
accept a compliment
Or not feel like shit for a while?
Do you think this vicious cycle of loving a man who puts me down,
binging and purging to lose a few pounds,
never knowing I’m a queen so I don’t wear my crown
Will be in every chapter in the story of my life?
And if I have a daughter, will she do what I taught her?
To love herself and not be bothered by the little boys named America
That we don’t measure beauty with tape around waists,
comparing faces,
wishing to trade places with the girls on the TV screen
But that true beauty is measured on the inside where the heart lies
And though you’ve given me a thousand reasons not to,
do you think I’ll ever look in a mirror
and love me?
Saying “I know I’m beautiful America, so fuck what you see.”
Because I can’t do this anymore,
not for another 2 years, 4 months, 3 weeks and 5 days
I need to be free
So I can speak truth to the youth:
That the average American woman is 5’4 and weighs 140 pounds
And that whether you weigh more or less than that, you have value
Your color, stature, and size does not define you
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder
So pick yours up and go show America