My mother asks when will I get married and I reply very Jamaican-like that ‘every hoe have dem stick a bush—’ before I can finish she asks so yes what about you, and I continue ‘—and some stick bruk.’
This is the beginning of a very long rant about church, God’s will and finding a nice man to settle down with because you know that’s what you’re to do and it doesn’t matter if the sticks are broken because women have the power to build men up
And I hope to never delude my daughter into believing they are to use the magic within their bones to serve men
that they are second only ribs help-mate subjects to the head
I hope to teach my daughter to sow her doubts till they sprout fruit to hone her softness to wield her sense of self as whole and powerful
My mother asks and immediately preaches no pauses or breaths
I pray that my daughter knows I will listen clasp her hands in mine eyes closed and mouth hushed heart open and ears wide
I will ask and I will wait.
Author Bio:
Gervanna Stephens is a Jamaican and proud Slytherin living in Canada. Her work has appeared in magazines like The /tƐmz/, TERSE., WusGood.black, Enclave, and Anti-Heroin Chic. She hates public speaking, has two sisters who are way better writers than her and thinks unicorns laugh when we say they aren’t real. Tweets @gravitystephens
Cover photo (C) @guillepozzi via Unsplash.com