I was born in January,
many don't remember because
often my birthday falls on the same day
as civil rights day,
and the oppression of rights is much more important
than the day that life was breathed into my body,
and I became a baby,
who grew with ideas and an imagination.
When I was four,
I sang as a tonedeaf child,
spinning in circles as my dress
swirled all around me.
I would never wear pants,
because "pants are for boys"
and refused to wear tights under my dresses.
I was a princess with a tiara on my mousy brown hair,
or so I thought.
When I grew up,
I chose to take an acting class,
in a musty room with a teacher who was on a power ball commercial.
It was then that I knew,
that the velvet curtains,
and the wooden floors that creaked
when you stepped on certain spots,
and the makeup, costumes, wigs, props,
and the weird people who could never fail to make me laugh,
was where and who I needed to be with.
I grew and grew and grew
I chose to write in cursive,
I chose to adore the tales of the 'greats'
that history told.
Joan of Arc,
all were people I adored,
people I wished to be.
And so I became a person I
never expected to be.
But perhaps it is for the best,
because I became me.