A pretty pink caterpillar plays her part perfectly

She knows what’s expected of her

Though sometimes she wonders…

What if she doesn’t want to be pretty and pink?

 

She makes caterpillar friends,

And feels content

Though questions linger,

Could she wander off the path that has been set for her?

 

The day is finally here

For this caterpillar to evolve

The pretty pink caterpillar enters her cocoon

Her parents are so proud

They patiently await the return of their

Pretty pink daughter

 

But a pretty pink butterfly does not emerge

This butterfly has

spots of yellow,

flecks of purple.

Pink accents remain,

Among the many colors and patterns decorate their wings

 

They’re a little apprehensive to leave the cocoon,

Afraid of what their friends and family will think

They find the courage to fly

The wind feels good in their wings

They’ve never felt so light and free!

 

They spot other multicolored butterflies,

And discover a wonderful, supportive community

They feel like they truly understand themselves for the first time

This was the missing link

It just makes sense

 

After a while, they go home to visit their parents

They have been dreading this inevitable conversation

Their parents can clearly see they’ve changed

What happened to their pretty pink daughter?

Why are there so many colors on her wings?

Still, they say they will make an effort to understand

 

 Despite saying they are supportive,

The parents neglect to update their language

To reflect this beautiful, complex butterfly

Over time, the butterfly’s colors fade

Their wings become a

solid,

muted

pink.

They lose their confidence, their identity

It’s easier to recede into pink than defend their colors

 

Still, they mourn the loss

How can such an amazing thing bring so much pain with it?

The pain of being treated like the pretty pink caterpillar of their past

This pink charade is exhausting

What could be wrong with their wings?

Why can’t they just live their truth?

 

It’s one thing for their parents to be ignorant

They could not have known about the colorful potential,

Their pretty pink caterpillar would unleash

But now… There is no excuse

They’ve seen their true identity

They are willfully hanging onto the past

 

Can’t you see how you are affecting the butterfly?

The poor butterfly has lost what made them special

To appease you.

To protect themselves.

To cope with You.

 

Every “she” and “her,”

Their wings get pinker

And grayer

As they are broken

And pushed

Into the pretty pink box

 

Are you happy now?

Because they are not.