If One Day I Have A Daughter

If one day I have a daughter, I will cry. I will imagine her life and the future she will have to endure, and my heart will fall to the floor.

At 6 she will be told by a teacher that the boy who pulled her hair “likes her”.

At 11 all her friends will abandon her. Embarrassed to be seen with the first girl to wear a bra.

At 13 she will cry because she will bleed rivers of red on her favorite white dress.

At 14 a boy will give her a drink, as an exchange he will shove his tongue down her throat. She will feel obligated to return the action until suddenly his hands will be in places that only she has seen when changing in her room still covered in posters of Disney princesses.

At 16 the boy she has liked since she was 12 will take her into his arms, profess his love and take her to bed. She won’t tell her friends. It hurt. She isn’t sure she wanted to? And now he’s back with his girlfriend.

At 20 she will pull a knife when the man she sat next to on the train follows her and pushes her against the alley wall. She calls the police because that’s what she was taught to do. All they do is eye her shorts and tell her she should stay home when the sun goes down.

If one day I have a daughter, I will cry. I will hold her between my arms and hope that I can keep her safe. My heart will break for the pain she will endure.

If one day I have a daughter, I will scream. I will shout venom to the heavens for the innocent inside of me who will one day be bruised and beaten by a world that only wants to kick her to the floor.

If one day I have a daughter, I will never wish that she were instead a boy. I will be thankful everyday for being the carrier of such strength, of beauty in darkness.

If one day I have a daughter, I will cry for the life she should be allowed to have.