This poem is for the girls.
For the girls whose favorite color growing up was green, not pink.
For elementary school princesses still dreaming of being royalty. For the cheerleaders and the songwriters.
The girls who loved fairy tales, who love romantic comedies.
For the girls who will not let you blame their anger or sadness on PMS,
regardless of what time of the month it is.
For the girls who write poetry and love letters. Who write “love me” down one arm and “I exist” up the other.
For the girls who love sex, and are not afraid to share that with their judgment congregation.
For girls who dress their best and girls who flaunt their breasts.
For the girls who love football, wrestling, and pillow fights. This is for all the girls who are all for the boys.
For “Beauty and the Beast” believers.
For the Penelopes and their faithfulness
Saving face to save themselves gracefully,
Falling apart behind closed doors.
For the girls who like girls, for the girls who kiss girls.
For the girls who will someday, God willing or not, marry girls
This is for heroines who like themselves, who hate themselves, who hurt themselves but refuse to change themselves for someone else.
For the girls who will never get used to you calling them beautiful,
But will never be okay with you calling them chicks, or dimes, or hunnies, or sluts, or hoes, or bitches, or pussy, or cunts or, or, or…