A.N. WARNING! Strongly-worded political piece. Not for the faint of heart. 

You have been warned.

so this is how it ends, the story of a lady and a

trump, to brush your fingers against a glass ceiling

only to fall a century short. is this where we’ve landed?

i’m back in high school again, and the class president is

the football superstar with a cheerleader on each arm

because he’s the one who smiles and winks and promises

free pizza though how no one knows (or cares). they don’t

notice the drab girl with glasses and books who studies

hard because she wants to be a doctor or lawyer or

engineer what a fool she is, because her worth is judged by

the boy on her arms, not by the content of her brain or heart.

pity the fool, because she will grow up thinking she can be

anything, and of course she can be, can be married to a doctor

or lawyer or CEO or MVP, can have four children or five, can

bring meatloaf or pot roast to the Sunday church potlucks.

dreams are for fools and writers, not practical people who understand

their place in the world, that progress is an illusion, that morality

is a phase, that hope and faith and charity are children’s names in

a book caked in dust stuffed somewhere on the back of the shelf.

and now i, too, know where i stand in the kitchen with bare feet bare

brains why fill them to be called girl they call me i did that well

for a girl because (just like they said in high school) no girl should

be a doctor it’s wrong don’t think jobs don’t think success don’t think

saving the world that’s wrong you’re wrong that’s men’s work just

shut up and remember your place on the arm of some boy and yet

through it all i see hope in the strangest places i’m not the only one, i

see the solidarity that we are strong, that hearts connect, that

the football superstar can only go so far, but i am a writer (and

perhaps that makes me a fool) but i dream, i dream far and wide and

step on toes and frayed nerves every day. they call me fool and girl and

foolish girl but maybe someday i can shatter ceilings and be

judged by something other than the boy i’m (not) clinging to for dear life.

i’m with her. when they go low, i go high. and i too can move mountains

oh, don’t think so?

just watch me

you’ll see

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