As
girls we’re taught to fear it
To
believe that the root of all evil
Lies
in saying: No
No
this is not right
No
I will not submit
No
you will not have power over me
No
no no no cries the woman who wishes
For
a life of her own
And
tongues wag and old wives condemn
Calling
her rebel, calling her faithless.
Like
a mantra we tell our children
Yes.
Always, say yes.
Yes
until the bottom of your well runs dry
Yes
until blood flows and bones shatter
Yes
until nothing remains
But
a dried-out husk.
We
tell ourselves that to say yes
Is
to be virtuous
Not
knowing that No is power:
Power
to create negative space
To
push away distractions
To
regroup, to grow in the darkness
Like
a germinating seed
That
to reclaim the power of No
Is
to begin to blossom and live.
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