that should come easily. A rant,
a missive, a manifesto, against stereotypes
and pink/blue dichotomies screaming at me.
A server handing out coloring sheets:
giving the monster truck to him,
pushing the fairy straight to her.
Why not allow them to choose?
A trip to any store around:
pink glitter sparkles against dazzling white
or blue fades into black, boundaries
solidly drawn, sternly abided by all.
My daughter, fresh from day one
of a much-loved and progressive preschool,
announces her sporty blue Toy Story
sneakers — once adored — are for boys
and no one at her school
likes girls who wear boys’ shoes.
And her hair is too short,
and her clip was too dark,
and "no one can even tell
I'm a girl," she cries out.
I’m so sick of limited imaginations
and people deciding my children’s preferences
for them. And yet, the rant
is unspoken, eloquent words trapped inside.
Instead, I fight for Toy Story
and Buzz costumes and colors beyond
pink. (My lord, the pink overwhelms!)
In my own way, I fight
for a rainbow colored, limitless childhood.
Even if no one else will,
even when it's the hard way.
Want more preschool revelations? Read this post from yesterday about how watching my Mountain Man and his Bella cracked me open.
***This post is part of Six Word Fridays.***