From womb to world ‘pink’ was how I was defined.

Pink like the Barbies I opposed.

Dress they say, cleats I say.  

You throw like a girl I hear,

until I give them black eyes.

Is being the best not good enough? 

My legs dance for the sport, 

sweat pools on my face,

the smell of crisply cut grass fills my nose,

but this is not for me I am told.

Knots of hair sit upon my head,

bound by the pink ribbon I must wear.

In the heart I am as pink as the night, 

but to them I am as pink as a cupcake.

I don’t care for the fashion I’m associated with.

I want to play the game I was born for, 

but to them,

I was born to be pink.