I’ve always had a tortured relationship with my gender. My mom, screwed out of the little boy she wanted and had a name for, decided to spite the universe by raising me to be the girliest girlie girl you ever did see. The universe respited her by having that girl come home with tears in her stockings, smudges on her dresses and countless missing barettes. The tom boyiest tom boy you ever had smack you on the back and then scream “you’re it.” All my friends have always been boys and I used to just assume it’d be easier if I were a boy too. Of course, I liked being completely pampered and spoiled by my grandfather and uncles in Panama — no way did I wanna be a boy then! They had to carry the water buckets and were always getting yelled at! Girl me right the hell up! So many teachers in my life pulled me aside and tried to explain that life would be hard for me unless I adapted a more traditional gender identity. (These were pre WBNA, Hillary Clinton days) They were right of course, tom boys don’t last. In fact, I only know of one who remains. (I’d link to her golf blog, if I knew how to do that on a blackberry.) So to this end, my drama coach assigned me to perform this poem in what was the last talent show she would ever direct. I rebelled. I’d much rather do my popular Ronald Reagan impressions! She insisted. And, if I say so myself, I knocked it out of the park. I never did become a real girly girl, but I did gain an appreciation for the awesomeness of being me. All of me.
Phenomenal Woman: Maya Angelou
Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size
But when I start to tell them,They think I’m telling lies.
I say, It’s in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,The stride of my step, The curl of my lips.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,That’s me.
I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please, And to a man,The fellows stand or Fall down on their knees. Then they swarm around me, A hive of honey bees. I say, It’s the fire in my eyes, And the flash of my teeth, The swing in my waist, And the joy in my feet.
I’m a woman Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,That’s me.
Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can’t touch
My inner mystery. When I try to show them
They say they still can’t see. I say,It’s in the arch of my back,The sun of my smile,The ride of my breasts,The grace of my style.
I’m a woman Phenomenally.Phenomenal woman,That’s me.Now you understand
Just why my head’s not bowed. I don’t shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud. I say, It’s in the click of my heels, The bend of my hair,the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,’Cause I’m a woman
Phenomenally.Phenomenal woman,That’s me.