I wanted my final anthology pieces to illustrate the feelings that people of color might feel. Everybody’s experience is different, but we all have a universal understanding of what it can be like.
White and Blue
Simple in blue
Plain in white
Living in my world
Is a brownish delight
I can see your eyes
Judge my fate
Based on my skin
And based on your hate.
Heavy in power
Low in fear
You think my world
Is too much to bear
That’s where you’re wrong
And that’s ok
How can you feel a statue
When it says “Do Not Touch”
In the display?
I cope with my problems
I live on strong
I live my life with passion
And in faith too
Your life may be pearls and diamonds
But mine is ruled by White
And scared of Blue.
Outta Luck
I had so much patience for you
I let you back in
And that’s the stupidest
I’ve ever been
I should’ve just stopped
I should’ve just listened
To the blocked-out voices that told me
You were no good
I never thought that you could do this to me
How stupid could I be?
I was too busy
Blocking out the voices
When it should’ve been you
I asked you
What I was to you, and you said
you didn’t know.
Six months for an
i don’t know.
I waited six months to hear that none of it existed
That I just pictured
All the kissing
All the missing
You’ve got to be fucking kidding
You dragged me
All this way
To tell me I didn’t matter
And in that moment
My whole body shattered
But you didn’t give a fuck
And if I had a buck for every fuck you gave
I’d be outta luck
Generation F means the power to be fierce. The power to be strong enough to publish something that makes me feel vulnerable and points to an example of the faux feminism we deal with daily.
My rapist is a feminist.
He went to the Women’s March on Washington one year after we broke up—a year after he raped me. There were pictures of him, smiling, happy pictures. Pictures with captions calling for equal rights.
A sign behind him read “My body, my choice.”
I wonder if he remembers how, the night we met, he walked me home, even though it was right around the corner. I thought it was sweet that he wanted to spend that extra forty-seven seconds with me. At the door to my apartment, he asked to use the bathroom.
Even though it took me longer to unlock my door than it would have taken for him to walk back to the bar in the first place, I let him inside.
He asked if he could stay the night. I told him I wouldn’t sleep with him.
“That’s okay,” he’d said. “I just want to lie down next to you. I just want to cuddle.”
I wonder if everyone’s definition of cuddling includes repeated attempts to remove my pants.
I wonder if I should have paid more attention to that. I wonder if paying more attention would have kept all of this from happening in the first place.
My rapist is a feminist. He posts links calling out television shows with all-male creative teams, telling them to “do better,” calling for a boycott of the Hollywood professionals who aren’t treating women with the respect they deserve.
I wonder if he remembers how, the last time we slept together, he argued with me about using a condom. I wonder if he remembers saying that I was overreacting when I told him he had a problem with consent.
I wonder if he is as ashamed of me as I am of myself for sleeping with him one more time, after he raped me.
My rapist is a feminist. He hosts events focused on equality and queer love. He attends future feminist dance parties and reposts articles on intersectional feminism.
I wonder if he remembers the night that it happened. If he remembers me telling him to stop. If he remembers pretending not to hear me. If he remembers pretending to be sorry. If he remembers the email he sent me, confessing and apologizing for all of the pain he caused me. If he remembers what a good showman he was.
My rapist is a feminist.
I wonder if he knows what that word means.
CRYSTAL ADOTE
YEARS AS MENTEE: 1
GRADE: Sophomore
HIGH SCHOOL: School of the Future
BORN: Queens, NY
LIVES: Queens, NY
MENTEE’S ANECDOTE: Working with Girls Write Now and Arielle has been a great experience. They have taught me new writing techniques, confidence, and optimism. Something I like about the program is the speakers that they bring in for the workshops. It is interesting and exciting to listen to other writers’ work and their histories. I also enjoy how we can write about anything we want and let our creativity run wild. I am particularly proud of my Column Writing piece—it taught me to state my opinion while being open to other people’s as well.
ARIELLE BARAN