womanhood.

When I was a little girl, my grandmother had a saying. 

Everytime I’d end up with some sort of bump or bruise, which was far too often for most parents to find

acceptable of their daughters, I’d hear- 

It’ll get better before you get married. 

The day I burned myself on my easy bake oven, because little girls were supposed to want to know how to

cook: 

It’ll get better before you get married. 

The day I fell off of my dirt bike because my father showed me how to go, but forgot to show me how to stop:

It’ll get better before you get married. 

The day I cut myself on the small pretend vacuum cleaner I got for Christmas: 

          It’ll get better before you get married. 

          The day I broke my finger trying to play with boys too much older than me: 

          It’ll get better before you get married. 

The day I scraped my hand falling on concrete for hop-scotching just a little too hard with my grandmother: 

           It’ll get better before you get married. 

Can you guess what my mother said to me the day I told her I was suffering from an acute depression? 

           She said, It’ll get better before you get married. 

Now, perhaps unsurprisingly, so much of what I want from my future 

Needs a husband. 

This is one example of the lines we carve into our daughters, and the scars that they carry for the rest of their lives. 

Little girls have to be kind. They have to be clean. They have to be covered. They have to want a man to love them. They have to be pretty. They have to be quiet. They have to be smart, but they can’t be smarter than their brothers. They have to need male respect, male validation, and they definitely have to get married. 

Except, maybe little girls don’t have to be anything, 

  Maybe the world we’ve learned to thrive in needs woman to believe that they have to fit in a box. 

That they have to exist in these small binaries of what womanhood is. 

But maybe that was never womanhood to begin with

I believe that womanhood is defined by women. 

I believe that womanhood is the assertion that I’m here. I matter. I deserve to be heard even if that makes you a bitch. 

I believe that womanhood is the way we clutch our keys between our fingers and wear what makes us happy anyway, no matter what the strange men do or shout. 

I believe that womanhood is the courage to stand up and say, I don’t like men, even when your worth has been defined by their attraction for so long. 

I believe that womanhood is the bags under our eyes, the spots on our faces, and the wrinkles around our mouths. 

I believe that womanhood is the confidence to be loud, when all you’ve ever been told is not now, maybe after him, later, hush. 

I believe that womanhood is my friend from high school getting pulled from class for having her shorts be too short, and still making valedictorian. 

I believe that womanhood is the strength to go at it alone when our grandmothers tell us that we can’t be better until we’re married.

About the Author

Mandy Bach is a first-year creative writing student who has always loved reading, writing, and literature. She’s recently found a passion for spoken word poetry, due in part to the poet Sarah Kay, and she’s excited about the larger spoken word community.