All boys want a letterman's jacket

All boys want a letterman’s jacket

I told my brother today

“What’s wrong with you?”

I asked him

He said he didn’t care.

“What’s wrong with you?”

I asked again

“All boys want a letterman’s jacket”

“Well, that’s not fair”

My mother chimes in

“You shouldn’t stereotype”

I shouldn’t stereotype?

I shouldn’t stereotype?

I shouldn’t stereotype?

Says the mother who bought me a Barbie

Instead of a baseball bat

Because I was meant to be a lady

Says the mother who pinched me hard on the side

Whenever I forgot to cross my ankles

Because that’s not how little girls sit

Says the mother who told me

On a day that I only remember as dark

That if I turned out to be gay

She’d be sure to beat it out of me

And it’s me

Yes, I suppose it’s me

Who shouldn’t stereotype

But then again I suppose people change

And that woman’s done more for me

Than I often give her credit for

But still

Isn’t it true?

Don’t all boys want a letterman’s jacket?

To have others admire

To display their many talents

To give to a girl

They think worthy of their love

I wanted one

But not for me

I wanted to be that girl

With the symbol of love

The symbol that’s fleeting

But feels like it lasts

But I just got stuck

With a letterman’s jacket

And my brother, the boy

Doesn’t want one

So maybe it’s possible

It may be quite plausible

That it’s me who wants

All boys to have letterman’s jackets

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