Learn to cook tamales for the holidays,
sew buttons for my future husband’s shirts,
because no man wants a useless woman. Don’t cry. It’s a sign of unnecessary weakness. Man up. Play with trucks, shoot toy guns,
learn how to throw the first punch. My physical strength. The only one that matters. So I sit in the back of the classroom
and listen for my name. No one knows about my dreams
to stand
on the moon, look over the world
and say I can see my room,
find a cure for the cancer that took my mother,
challenge the Mayans and discover a new number,
create sounds for those who never knew music. Because I am a woman. Because I am a man. Walking on a path never imagined. Never braved. Never lived. It is like me. Endless with possibilities. By Luivette Resto
