Boxes

When I was born, I was put into two boxes

One was a real box, clear, with little holes so I could breathe, 

Because apparently, I couldn’t wait to be born.

The other one is ‘girl’

I was put in a box lined with pink, frills, glitter, and gossip.

My family didn’t enforce these stereotypes

But like all boxes, ‘girl’ is good at one thing, if only one,

Keeping what it’s supposed to hold, in.

Me. 

For a while, I made the box my home.

I cried when my ceiling wasn’t painted pink

I wore tutus and dresses and took ballet.

But I took the exacto knife of change

And cut a hole through the tape. 

Saw me, 

In challenge math.

I saw me

Speaking up for a gender-neutral bathroom at my school

I saw me

Dancing hip hop in lilac sneakers

I saw the new me

She’s not perfect.

She cries.

She takes anxiety medicine

She watches helplessly as her friends fight.

But she is free from

The boxes.