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Glasgow, Scotland
Words are formed by experiences, and words inform our experiences. Words also transform life and the world. I am a writer and Presbyterian minister who grew up in the 1960's in the segregated South of the United States. I've lived in Alaska, the Washington, DC area, and Minnesota. Since 2004 I've lived in Glasgow, Scotland, where I enjoy working on my second novel and serving churches that are between one thing and another. I advocate for the full inclusion of all people in the church and in society, whatever our genders or sexual orientations. Every body matters.

Friday, May 31, 2013

I Am Me.


I Am Me.
In honor of every girl who has survived.
In memory of all the girls who didn’t stand a chance.

           Not a jizz rag,
           Not a punching bag,
           Not for you to brag.
I Am Me.

           Not an orifice,
           Not a pair of tits,
           Not for you to diss.
I Am Me.

           Not a mouthy bitch,
           Not a pushy broad,
           Not for you to hit—no matter how hard.
I Am Me.

           Not a helpless maiden
           Nor Handmaid of Satan.
           Not for you to shit on.
I Am Me.

           Not a needy whore,
           Not a brainy bore,
           Not yours to ignore.
I Am Me.

           Not an old man’s charmer (Leviticus 21:13-15),
           Not a king’s bed-warmer (1 Kings 1:1-4),
           Not yours to barter (Genesis 19:8, Judges 19:24).
I Am Me.

           Not a stupid missy,
           Not an untamed filly,
           Not for you to diddly.
I Am Me.

           Not a virgin vessel,
           Not a distressed damsel,
           Not for you to gamble.
I Am Me.

           Not a t-shirt slogan,
           Not a male that’s broken,
           Not for you to put down.
I Am Me.

           Not the shame of boys—“Sissie!”
           Not the blame for hormones—“Crazy!”
           Not the aim of your creation envy—“Hysterical!”
I Am Me.

           Not your closet for being gay
           Nor your test for going straight.
           Not your fix for what’s innate.
I Am Me.

           Not “forbidden fruit,”
           Not for “cherry-picking,”
           Not yours “ripe for the taking.”
I Am Me.

           Not a notch on posts,
           Not the brunt of jokes,
           Not a field for your wild oats—Go sow yourself.
I Am Me.

           Not to ply with drugs or drinks
           Nor supply frat boys’ high jinx.
           Not yours to score for scoring points.
I Am Me.

           Not a “Lassie,” “Chick,” or “Sow,”
           Nor a “Pet,” “Hen,” or “Cow.”
           Not yours to name, anyhow.
I Am Me.

           Not a passive receptacle
           Nor the weaker recipient.
           Not a submissive slot to fill.
I Am Me.

           Not a spoil of war or conflict,
           Not a thing to sell or traffic,
           Not yours to photo graphic.
I Am Me.

           Not my mother’s sub,
           Not my sister’s doub,
           Not for you to slug.
I Am Me.

           Not my brother’s hate,
           Not my father’s mate,
           Not for you to rape.
I Am Me.

           Not a cure for having AIDS,
           Not a prize at heaven’s gate,
           Not yours to genital-mutilate.
I Am Me.

           Not anyone’s blank slate,
           Not someone’s book of fate,
           Not yours to groom and bait.
I Am Me.

           Not a body in your attic,
           Not a slave in your basement,
           Not yours to crucify with your patriarchal religion.
I Am Me.

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