To the Little Girls Behind my Cushioned Chair
When I was 7 years old
My mind was consumed
With visions of angels
The soft glow of the sun
The splashing of water
And my father chasing me through our backyard
Catching me with a mock roar and a swoop of his arms
My only worry was getting home
As soon as I heard my mother’s whistle calling me home at dusk
When I was 9 years old
I began to notice how men stared at women
And my fascination grew
As those same woman would coo
And beckon with a crook of their manicured fingers
When I was 10
I began to recognize the signs of lust
In the eyes of older boys in the marketplace
My mother whispering harshly to pull down my shorts
And my arms crossing over my breasts
Undescribed shame
Flooding my cheeks with crimson embarrassment
When I was 12
My mother told me to change my outfit
Telling me my body had developed
And I should hide under ill-fitting clothes
To keep the thoughts of young men pure
To keep them from temptation
She told me woman have a great responsibility
It was a “gift and privilege” from God
I remember thinking God could go to hell
And I didn’t want His fucking gift.
When I was 14
I began to see my body as power
If i was given a gift, I was going to use it as I damn well pleased
I began to explore the images of people committing “ungodly” acts
And I would envision the exotiic dance of bodies
Moving to a beat I have never heard
But longed to know
An unquenchable and all-consuming thirst taking over my body
Pooling down to the space in between my thighs
At night I would touch myself beneath the sheets
Experiencing a pleasure I didn’t know existed on this Earth
And by morning I would be begging forgiveness
For the dirtiness still coating my fingertips
When I turned 15
I began to despise my body
I wished for slimmer thighs
A tighter waist
And the approval of my mother
At her encouragement, I ate less and less
And hated myself more and more
I wanted the perfected smile
The gaunt cheeks
Prominent collar bones and rib cage
And the doe eyes I knew no amount of starving would give ,me
My asian heritage all too evident and resented
When I turned 16
The purity I had been told to crave and protect
No longer seemed important
The burning between my legs was no longer satisfied by my own fingers
My desire begged to be fed
By the hands of another
But the hands i chose were far crueller and less skilled than my own
And they beat and bruised and cut and left gaping wounds in my soul
I was left to pick up the pieces of my broken spirit
The innocent girl being chased by her doting father
With her bright perspective
Glowing, almond eyes
And unwavering trust and happiness
Drowned under waves of shame
Guilt
Illness
Insecurity
And regret
When I was 17
I entertained the idea of death
In a cushioned sitting room in my mind
We drank tea and gazed at each other for several months
His eyes weren’t scary and black and tormented like most may think
In fact, they were warm and comforting and all too tempting
I still had a fear of the darkness of no longer existing, of my soul drifting from my body
ButI still had a faint hope
HIdden in the tiniest, deepest crevices of my soul that things would get better
And so I eventually escorted him out
Before he left, he gave me his card to call if I ever changed my mind
I am 18 now
A young woman with so much in front of me
I see my dreams resurrecting from the ashes of my mistakes
And the hope in my soul has grown brighter and brighter
Until it has become an all-consuming light
To the little girls sitting on the floor behind my cushioned chair
Giggling behind your hands and people-watching
Don’t let the world steal your light
Or tell you that you are not enough
Keep that love and fascination with life
Keep the love that you have for yourself
And burn anyone who tries to take that from you