by Hazel Woodbridge
Now, I know you are probably going to laugh at me
But, being a tall girl is hard.
Think about it, I am 6 feet tall….
I was 5ft 10” in grade 5.
My mother once described me as an angry child, constantly in pain.
Waking up from a nap screaming, knees swollen red and inflamed.
By the time I was 6 I was too big for kiddie rides at carnivals.
The dragon ride was my favourite.
Everyone always assumed I was older.
To others it didn’t matter.
I don’t remember how old I was
When my father told me to stop wearing short shorts
Or, when my mother taught me to never make eye contact
With a man on the street
Or, when I was taught to use my keys like a knife
Or, when my body became too woman to warrant respect.
Last year, I was given a choice.
I could go to a halloween party, or a viking pit roast with a bunch of my mothers friends
I chose the latter, I didn’t want to risk anything bad happening.
It wasn’t until a 35 year old man had his hand wrapped around my waist that I realised my mistake.
A year later, at a graduation camping trip,
A boy I trusted decided to slide his hand up my thigh.
My pussy isn’t yours to grab, and no the corn field doesn’t look lovely in the moonlight.
It wasn’t until after
That my friend told me of everything he’s done to her…..
When did my body begin to take up too much space, just by existing?
When did my body become a void for him to fill?
In that moment, I wasn’t a woman anymore.
When did I become more drizzle than hurricane?
More static than lightning strike?
Well, know this now, your breath on my neck
Only builds the storm.
Every unwanted touch is kerosene,
Every whispered word a sparking ember,
And when this storm comes
You are going to watch this house go up in flames.
You had better watch out,
Because you aren’t in Kansas anymore.