Anonymous
I don’t think you will ever understand what it is to be a woman.
There is an innate guilt in my existence
One that is there for not remaining my father’s daughter
One that is there for not being every dream my mother once had
One that is there to exist as the side my brother could never be
Emotional
Non-aggressive
Full of art
Trying to be full of life
There is an innate guilt in my existence.
My lover does not understand it.
He is kind
He is loving
He is patient
He is all of the things that I wish I could prove that I am to myself
But he does not understand
He does not understand what it means to fall apart at the seams in the same way I have before
He does not understand why the pursuit of trying to understand what life is intended to be is the only escape I have from the presupposition that my existence in inherently contingent on the guilt of all the women who have come before me.
I am full of the things my mother could never become
Independent
Free
I am full of all the possibility of all the things she is today
A housewife
A mother
A bride
A life that hinges on her children
A life that requires a husband
Who was she before being my mother?
Who was she before being a bride?
Who was she before her mother made her those things too?
There is an innate guilt in my existence.
I am full of the vehemence of my father
His rage
His excitement
His passion
His love
Never can I escape these
And yet
It is wrong
Wrong.
Wrong.
Wrong.
For me to hold rage so tightly it burns through me
To hold excitement to the point of expression
To hold passion and not be seen simply for my body
To love.
Oh god.
To love.
How am I intended to love?
And be loved
It is impossible.
And yet.
And yet.
And yet.
It is all I want.
It is all that I need.
It is all that I require of my life.
To love.
To be loved.
To be seen as a person.
A person who is independent of her circumstances
Of her impositions
Of her indignations
Of her regrets
Of her dreams
Of her life.
To be seen outside her life.
Her…
Her.
There is no escape.
No escape from the word
No escape from what she….
What I
Place upon myself.
The weight.
The guilt.
It might be inherent to my existence.
But it is mine.
It is mine.
There is no escape from what is imposed upon me.
By me.
I do not see myself.
I was terribly worried that I don’t exist outside of when someone sees me.
I knew I did
I thought I did
I hoped I did
I don’t think I do now
I don’t even think it matters if I did.
I do not think I exist outside of when someone sees me.
And that is what it is to be a woman.