deepundergroundpoetry.com
Miss Representation
When she was seven
we played a game,
matching heads to bodies and legs,
a little girls face, strong arms
with anchor tattoos
footballers legs
and army boots.
And so she made the image match
stronger faster quicker,
hard to catch,
brighter braver better
than the best.
She became herself.
At seventeen they dropped the veil
of the beauty queen, eating only apples
to fall fast asleep.
When she woke I cried,
thinner weaker slower
something died inside.
Quiet dull compliant,
tethered to the tugboats pull.
She wanted the boys
to flock like gulls.
At twenty one she started to see
beyond the braille books
of how a female should look
in preparation for male approval,
an ill placed hand can break
the darkest of spells.
So now she stands ahead of the table,
pens take note when she speaks
a guide for the weak, all are equal.
The papers reported her success
with questions of tummy tucks
and real or fake breasts.
They missed the anchor tattoo.
we played a game,
matching heads to bodies and legs,
a little girls face, strong arms
with anchor tattoos
footballers legs
and army boots.
And so she made the image match
stronger faster quicker,
hard to catch,
brighter braver better
than the best.
She became herself.
At seventeen they dropped the veil
of the beauty queen, eating only apples
to fall fast asleep.
When she woke I cried,
thinner weaker slower
something died inside.
Quiet dull compliant,
tethered to the tugboats pull.
She wanted the boys
to flock like gulls.
At twenty one she started to see
beyond the braille books
of how a female should look
in preparation for male approval,
an ill placed hand can break
the darkest of spells.
So now she stands ahead of the table,
pens take note when she speaks
a guide for the weak, all are equal.
The papers reported her success
with questions of tummy tucks
and real or fake breasts.
They missed the anchor tattoo.
Published 6th Oct 2019
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The author encourages honest critique.
6th Oct 2019 00:51am
I have a 14-year-old girl. Watching her journey through middle school, and remembering the journey myself, is distressing....
There's great sensitivity in your observations.
There's great sensitivity in your observations.
7th Oct 2019 11:01pm
pleased you connected with this BT and thanks for sharing, much appreciated
6th Oct 2019 1:21am
7th Oct 2019 11:01pm
6th Oct 2019 2:18am
such a wealth in this
love the way you drive the pace to a faster rhythm with the diction of the second strophe, underscoring the actual words and imagery they create
you control how fast and slow you want us, as readers, to travel through your poem. it's very skilful.
love the braille books line because it can be taken literally and metaphorically; if the daughter's physically blind, the 'building' of herself with those flip books into how she wanted to be, how she felt inside, blindness not really holding her back....but--for me (with a transgender child--born into a male body but female inside) this speaks to me of a male child born into a female body:
the little girl's face is what they see, the tattoos, footballer legs etc is how they see themselves, their identity. the teen years with their denial, the wanting to fit in, the yearning for male attention to make them 'normal', the 'preparing'. of course, that's from the pov i bring with me to this laden table; your piece applies as equally to a little girl who sees herself as strong and 'whole' but then denies her inner id because the 'blind' books tell her how she should look, how she should behave... how this weakens her, just as starving herself to achieve a certain look does physically.
and then she is there, a success but different to how perhaps she once saw herself. and the damned tabloids don't see her inner strength that got her through her battles. all they ask about is her physical appearance.
sooooooo... sorry to have rambled on, but this is where your poem takes me; down many paths of thought. thankyou
love the way you drive the pace to a faster rhythm with the diction of the second strophe, underscoring the actual words and imagery they create
you control how fast and slow you want us, as readers, to travel through your poem. it's very skilful.
love the braille books line because it can be taken literally and metaphorically; if the daughter's physically blind, the 'building' of herself with those flip books into how she wanted to be, how she felt inside, blindness not really holding her back....but--for me (with a transgender child--born into a male body but female inside) this speaks to me of a male child born into a female body:
the little girl's face is what they see, the tattoos, footballer legs etc is how they see themselves, their identity. the teen years with their denial, the wanting to fit in, the yearning for male attention to make them 'normal', the 'preparing'. of course, that's from the pov i bring with me to this laden table; your piece applies as equally to a little girl who sees herself as strong and 'whole' but then denies her inner id because the 'blind' books tell her how she should look, how she should behave... how this weakens her, just as starving herself to achieve a certain look does physically.
and then she is there, a success but different to how perhaps she once saw herself. and the damned tabloids don't see her inner strength that got her through her battles. all they ask about is her physical appearance.
sooooooo... sorry to have rambled on, but this is where your poem takes me; down many paths of thought. thankyou
7th Oct 2019 11:04pm
I love how you have interpreted this one butters, again you see everything and more. much appreciated
