Raising Our Daughters

Something I've learned is growing old

does not always mean

growing up.

As soon as before I could walk

I was taught all the ways I would always be

different.

From my male counter part,

my brother,

 my father,

 my friend.

They tell our parents that their girls, 

will talk sooner than their boys.

And then they will tell us

how little we have to say.

They say we mature faster than our brothers.

They tell us we're growing up, 

but this does not mean that I will recieve privilege.

No, this means

while I slather thick layers of eyeshadow over my skin

raw from scrubbing away all the imperfections,

my brother still plays in the mud.

It means, while I comfort my mother through her tears

after dad has thrown another fit,

my brother is lost to his video games.

I begin to realize that when my mother tells me I am growing up

my father only grows old.

Like a todddler without principle he never seems to grasp the consequences

of his actions.

The first time I am taught to do the dishes I feel so adult,

but my brother is the one allowed out late that night.

When I have to babysit my nieces on the weekends,

I feel so proud to be like my mother,

but my brother, never has to rearrange his plans.

I learn very quickly that they will tell us we're growing up

so that we won't question what that means.

They will praise us for maturing so much

that we never ask why the boys do not.

They paint it into our minds that we are the caregivers

that the boys will never care about.

We are molded steadily from such a young age

that we never realize we are only statues for their entertainment

until the clay has long since dried.

But you are only mature when it is convenient:

"Wash the dishes, do the laundry, watch the babies".

And still growing, when it is not:

"You're too young to wear that, you can't date, that show is innapropriate".

I've done most of my growing up inbetween lessons

so when I look in the mirror

I don't realize

how much I've grown old.