I’M NOT YOUR DAUGHTER

I'm not your daughter.

Don't you have others?

Two others.

You don't treat them well anyway.

You don't even talk to them on a daily basis.

Your first,

your oldest,

you don't bother to wish her a happy birthday, because you're too focused on the one that's coming up for you,

One step closer to your grave maybe, dragging through the dirt in your fancy shoes you probably can't even afford?

I like to think most fathers would view a kid so close to their birthday as an early gift.

You know I thought most parents didn't want their kids?

I didn't find a set that had wanted and planned their marriage and children until middle school,

and I still remember every detail my best friend told me about it:

her mother scooting closer to her father on the couch,

her father assuming she just wanted to move, and giving her more space,

her chasing him to the end of the couch.

She even told me what she knew of the pregnancy:

her mother met Obama.

He ran into her on the street, and noticed she was pregnant,

and said, confidently, that it was a daughter,

and sure enough it was.

And she told me her best friend fought a woman for the last pint of sherbet towards the end of her pregnancy,

And that her father was more than happy with a daughter.

It sounds crazy. Foreign.

What about the second oldest,

the one with the glasses, who plays the flute?

She doesn't fight with you.

She doesn't like you, but who would like you anyways after all this--I think your dislike came first.

Why don't you ever come home with a bag of candy for her?

Why don't you buy her one of those expensive ass pens?

Or try and fit her huge feet into your painful fucking shoes?

What is it you want?

I'm not your daughter.

No matter how much you might want me to be,

No matter how much I might actually want to be.

How do you even be a daughter?

I know you have to be a girl, right?

How do you be a girl?

It's not the makeup, it's not the dresses.

That's not what defines girlhood.

It's not the parts, it's not the periods.

How do you be a daughter?

Would I know if you actually acted like a father, if I got some guide for it?

Maybe I could've been a son, I think that was what you wanted, anyways.

So, how do you be a son?

You have to be a boy, right?

How do you be a boy, because it can't be parts or dress,

and it's not