Men prefer a reserved lady,
Mother was quick to admonish,
ashamed of my hot temper,
the tear in mud-soaked stockings
the call that came from the boy’s mother.
But I was born with a fervid passion,
a sense of justice igniting a fire within –
Women need to stand up,
I lectured her, to declare our rights –
a concept that fell on closed ears.
She’d continue to take father’s abuse,
apologize for under-salted broth,
or too thick gravy, for lingering
too long in conversation at the market,
or letting us kids dare to raise our voices.
And I’d continue to clock any boy
who dared to say that girls can’t….
Neither of us able to reverse
the inequity we suffered.
(For Ragtag Community’s challenge: fervid; and Fandango’s, reverse.) Image from personal collection.
Your poem resonated with me as well. Lately, I’ve been writing about women trapped in their social roles and intimate relationships.
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We could have great discussions, Liz.
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Yes, I think we could.
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Usually, all my mother had to do was point her finger at my dad if she thought he was getting out of line. I had eight sisters so we (the boys) were taught to respect women. Not that they couldn’t ‘clock’ any one who stepped on their toes.
A great poem my friend.
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Thanks Jerry. Love that the girls held the reins in your family. My son was the only male amongst his sister and I and he called it “concentrated Mom juice”, lol.
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I love it.
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Wow! That is a powerful standoff, communicate very well. Love your use of dialog here.
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Thanks LuAnne. I appreciate that you recognize techniques.
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Just love it! Very well voiced out sentiments… these still prevail in our society in one form or other! The strong stand up n the the not so strong put up with it…
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Thanks. It does still prevail.
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I love this, V.J. That sense of justice that is too fired up to ignore. In my case, not wearing a slip under one’s dress or skirt rendered one NOT a lady! What we learn so young…
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In retrospect, our parents knew less about what they were doing then we did, so it’s not blame.
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I suppose I’m fortunate to a man
However both my parents were grand
Mum was a strong independent brand
And taught me to be a respectful man
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Nice! You were lucky.
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We are so slowly evolving in so many ways.
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Yes. Slowly.
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My mother took too much mental abuse from my father! I wanted her to leave him.
She stayed for a while because she wanted me to learn from it and not suffer as she did. It worked but took me a few years to realize it. I was also more prepared for the corporate world which I endured for forty years plus. I learned to be tough there, as well.
A splendid poem, V.J., and one I can relate to.
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My mother still wonders why she stayed. Dad died in 2005, and she is still recovering. It’s true though that each generation learns from the one before.
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Yes, indeed.
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I think under-salted broth was a crime in most states but the law may have changed. 🙂
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Ha ha ha – you’d have thought it was a major crime.
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