“when she was 7, a boy pushed her on the playground
she fell headfirst into the dirt and came up with a mouthful of gravel and lines of blood chasing each other down her legs
when she told her teacher what happened, she laughed and said ‘boys will be boys honey don’t let it bother you
he probably just thinks you’re cute’
but the thing is,
when you tell a little girl who has rocks in her teeth and scabs on her knees that hurt and attention are the same
you teach her that boys show their affection through aggression
and she grows into a young woman who constantly mistakes the two
because no one ever taught her the difference
‘boys will be boys’
‘that’s how he shows his love’
and bruises start to feel like the imprint of lips
she goes to school with a busted mouth in high school and says she was hit with a basketball instead of his fist
the one adult she tells scolds her
‘you know he loses his temper easily
why the hell did you have to provoke him?’
so she shrinks
folds into herself, flinches every time a man raises his voice
by the time she’s 16 she’s learned her job well
be quiet, be soft, be easy
don’t give him a reason
but for all her efforts, he still finds one
‘boys will be boys’ rings in her head
‘boys will be boys
he doesn’t mean it
he can’t help it’
she’s 7 years old on the playground again
with a mouth full of rocks and blood that tastes like copper love
because boys will be boys baby don’t you know
that’s just how he shows he cares
she’s 18 now and they’re drunk
in the split second it takes for her words to enter his ears they’re ruined
like a glass heirloom being dropped between the hands of generations
she meant them to open his arms but they curl his fists and suddenly his hands are on her and her head hits the wall and all of the goddamn words in the world couldn’t save them in this moment
she touches the bruise the next day
boys will be boys
aggression, affection, violence, love
how does she separate them when she learned so early that they’re inextricably bound, tangled in a constant tug-of-war
she draws tally marks on her walls ratios of kisses to bruises
one entire side of her bedroom turns purple, one entire side of her body
boys will be boys will be boys will be boys
when she’s 20, a boy touches her hips and she jumps
he asks her who the hell taught her to be scared like that and she wants to laugh
doesn’t he know that boys will be boys?
it took her 13 years to unlearn that lesson from the playground
so I guess what I’m trying to say is
i will talk until my voice is hoarse so that my little sister understands that aggression and affection are two entirely separate things
baby they exist in difference universes
my niece can’t even speak yet but I think I’ll start with her now
don’t ever accept the excuse that boys will be boys
don’t ever let him put his hands on you like that
if you see hate blazing in his eyes don’t you ever confuse it with love
baby love won’t hurt when it comes
you won’t have to hide it under long sleeves during the summer
the only reason he should ever reach out his hand
is to hold yours—
Fortesa Latifi - Boys Will Be Boys
(And Why That Is The Stupidest Thing You Could Ever Say To A Little Girl)
reblogged Apr 16 2014 at 12:00 PM with 203,323 notes reblog ♥
a Quest is a trip to accomplish a task.
an Adventure is a trip without a destination.
a Journey is when the trip is more important than the destination.
I often take journeys up and down my halls to think. I like this.
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u can’t just pretend you care about me one day then completely abandon me the next. thats not how it works.
reblogged Apr 11 2014 at 12:00 PM with 61 notes reblog ♥
do u ever love a celebrity so much it makes you sad
Do you mean: Jensen Ackles
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“If I should have a daughter, instead of “Mom”
Shes gonna call me point B
Because that way she knows that no matter what happens
At least she can always find her way to me.
And I’m going to paint solar systems on the backs of her hands
So she has to learn the entire universe
Before she can say “oh I know that like the
Back of my hand.”
And shes going to learn
That this life will hit you hard
In the face
Wait for you to get back up just so
It can kick you in the stomach
But getting the wind knocked out of you
Is the only way to remind your lungs
How much they like the taste of air
There is hurt here
That cannot be fixed by band-Aids or poetry
So the first time she realizes
That Wonder Woman isn’t coming
I’ll make sure she knows
She doesn’t have to wear the cape all by herself
Because no matter how wide you stretch your fingers
Your hands will always be too small
To catch all the pain you want to heal
Believe me, I’ve tried.
“And baby,” I’ll tell her,
‘don’t keep your nose up in the air like that.
I know that trick; I’ve done it a million times.
You’re just smelling for smoke
So you can follow the trail back to a burning house
So you can find the boy who lost everything in the fire
To see if you can save him.
Or else find the boy who lit the fire in the first place,
To see if you can change him.”
But I know she will anyway
So instead I’ll always keep an extra supply
Of chocolate and rain boots nearby,
Because there is no heartbreak that chocolate can’t fix.
Okay there’s a few heartbreaks that chocolate can’t fix.
But that’s what the rain boots are for
Because rain will wash away everything if you let it.
I want her to look at the world
Through the underside of a glass-bottom boat,
To look through a microscope
At the galaxies that exist
On the pinpoint of a human mind
Because that’s the way my mom taught me
That there’ll be days like this.
There’ll be days like this, my momma said.
When you open your hands to catch
And wind up with only blisters and bruises;
When you step out of the phone booth and try to fly
And the very people you want to save
Are the ones standing on your cape;
When your boots will fill with rain
And you’ll be up to your knees in disappointment.
And those are the very days you have all the more reason
To say thank you.
Because there’s nothing more beautiful
Than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline
No matter how many times it’s sent away.
You will put the wind in winsome, lose some.
You will put the star
In starting over, and over.
And no matter how many land mines erupt in a minute
Be sure your mind lands
On the beauty of this funny place called life.
And yes, on a scale from one to over-trusting,
I am pretty damn naïve.
But I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar.
It can crumble so easily,
But don’t be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it.
“Baby,” I’ll tell her, “remember your momma is a worrier,
and your poppa is a warrior,
and you are the girl with small hands and big eyes
who never stops asking for more.”
Remember that good things come in threes
And so do bad things.
And always apologize when you’ve done something wrong.
But don’t you ever apologize
For the way your eyes refuse to stop shining.
Your voice is small, but don’t ever stop singing.
And when they finally hand you heartache,
When they slip war and hatred under your door,
And offer you handouts on street corners
Of cynicism and defeat
You tell them that they really ought to meet your mother.— "If I Should Have A Daughter" by Sarah Kay (via knot-a-clew)
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