Katrina Kaye

I am an American Girl
raised only on promises.
I was molded from cement.
Baptized in venom and told not to cry,
but under my skin is porcelain,
hopes strangled in conception.

Breast feed stereotypes of submission
and honor roll expectations,
acceptance measured
by the circumference of waist
and the slit between legs.
I was never quite good enough.

You want me as smart as the
whip chasing the horse to the finish line.
You want me to fuck like a porn star,
drink the boys under the table,
and still make tortillas and roll my
Rs like my grandmother taught me.

You told me
I could be anything I wanted to be.

Fuck you, America,
I’m your girl.

You’re the reason I haven’t
enjoyed a meal since I was seven.
The reason I’m afraid to walk home
alone at night. I have bent my back crooked
to fit through your wire gates, but am
still left with fresh scratches every time
I open my door.

America,
my skin knows well the crawl of insect awkward,
the sound of your cat calls,
I have bitten my tongue until it bleeds.
My closet wields a collection of masks.
They are no different than every other
girl you made in your image.

I see it in every adolescent sitting
in classroom fretting her figure,
painting her eyelids. I see
starvation in ribcage,
insecurity carved on arms
hollow of spirit.
America, this is your creation.

You taunted us with promises of all we could be
if we just worked hard enough,
then trapped us under low ceilings blaming
in on the weakness of our gender.

It is no wonder that when you finally gave us the power to
stand up, we still destroy each other, to destroy ourselves.
Your misogyny is so ingrained within us we
call it morality, instead of the hate
it really is.

The greatest nation in the world
spoon feeds chains to our girls
from the moment we are born
so we are yours from the inside out.

You raised us,
your American Girls,
we are your conception
but we do not have to be your legacy.

We have grown into women,
powerful and capable. We do not have
to work against each other; we are strong enough
to hold each other up. We can weaponized ourselves
to crack the walls you have built for us.
We do not have to be what
we have always been. We can be better.

“American Girl” is a former performance piece (2012-2016).