Did she make a fool out of herself?
Torching her language, the meaning of things?
Did confusion start within her?
Her sudden teenage inability to speak clearly?
First sexualised, then infantilised?
Would she always seek parental crutches?
Demonise everything outside of her?
Who had been responsible for the changes she went through?
Did she not have the strength to say no, that’s not me?
Did she give it up freely at the first sign of criticism?
Did she cave in on her own?
And now what?
She knows she is vulnerable, that’s what freedom does.
And she needs to take it like a woman.
Not crawl back into her hole to minimise herself.
No, that’s not what they all fought for.
They knew that she could pull it off.
She knows that she is the one
In charge, making sure her boundaries are visible.
No justifications necessary.
Take it or leave it.
She had never been so incredibly apologetic.
Owing false-sounding explanations to everybody and nobody.
She understood that she had to
Be vocal again, autonomous, decisive.
And not treat herself like a child,
Being dragged away by a stranger.
“Dame met sigaret” by Leo Gestel (1881-1941)