Girlhood: A Demanded Obedience

A Poem by Rhen

I learned early how to behave. Not because I wanted to, but because survival has rules. Don’t be loud. Don’t be difficult. Don’t say no too clearly.

My body learned this before my mind did. How to stay soft when I was uncomfortable. How to smile when something felt wrong. How to fawn instead of fight, because that was safer.

Everyone feels entitled to a piece of you. Your time. Your kindness. Your patience. Your body, even if only with their eyes.

They teach us early that being wanted is the closest thing to power that we’re allowed. Then punish us for knowing it. For using it. For resenting it.

I’m so tired of being told to be grateful. Grateful for attention that feels like a threat. Grateful for a world that makes us less than. Grateful for existing in a body that has never truly belonged to only me.

There is a quiet violence in it. Being constantly aware of yourself. In planning exits. In rehearsed politeness. In carrying keys between your fingers and fear in your chest.

Some days I want to tear myself open just to prove I am more than what is seen. More than what is consumed. More than what is taken.

I am angry in ways that have no outlet. Angry in ways that sit in my throat, in my hips, in the way I flinch without thinking.

I want a life where my softness is chosen, not demanded. Where my silence is rest, not obedience.