A Kingdom for a Crown
Even before it happened I knew it would--
I was nominated for Homecoming Queen Fall 1970.
I sweat and festered, stewed and ranted, as
Dreams of thorny crowns were placed on my head
Gazing crowds staring me down in wonder
In horror
I walked past shop windows, dummies cast in
Sequined gowns, gowns made of voile, satin
The kind of spider-web thin lace known as crewel embroidery
Could I carry it off?
Tenacious but revealing all the circulatory systems of the human body
In horror, blood cursing along.
Silent, the way a revolution starts, in people’s tiny refusals.
No sugar in the tea for me, thank you.
Like the way sandstorms start in a dessert
A quiet sissss…… then dead silence
While microscopic grains of sand make permanent inroads
Into seemingly impenetrable metal car bodies or wooden structures
now caving.
There was a special high school assembly.
The queen candidates all had their turn at the mike:
And why would you be the best queen possible for our school?
Because I did this and that, because I played this and that, because
I use Dove cleansing cream for smooth facial skin, Maybelline cover-up—
And so forth.
Watching my sister peers privately whisper their grievances
But once mounting the podium
Ready to tear off the head of the next Barbie
Whose pony tail was matted
Whose bubble hairdo was crimped
Whose sister peers did not matter.
The rationale was--If all was made by Mattel
then it may not matter, indeed.
My turn came.
I walked onto the stage.
Like a visage from Edvard Munch
I wanted to say all this and so much more
But Munch had his way. I screamed.
Then sat back down.
Later--
Some thought I lost my voice because of cheering too hard at a recent football game.
A few thought I lost my voice because of a rare strain of strep throat infecting women who, in 1970, were just finding their voice.
Ashamed that I had lost it—and by extension—the crown.
Little did I know it was the beginning of having something to say
And the tenacity of lace to say it.
No comments:
Post a Comment