G R O W I N G

When I was four years old

My hair was in pigtails

The pin straight parting line, an indicator

Of the righteous path

I was meant to follow

All the way down

To my eyes stained with kohl

To ward off darkness

Underlining my eyes

Underplaying my achievements

To the crook of my nose

That was religiously massaged

By well-meaning keepers of my sexuality

Who sniffed out solitude

From the arch of my nose

My earlobes pierced

Before I could say the word gender

Branding not just my femininity

But my place in society

Weighed down by its expectations

But still enduring

The fuzz above my lips

Smeared with concoctions

To rid itself of sins

That would mar the image

Of a perfect woman

My lips aching

For lipstick to stain them

The foray into womanhood

Only completed by this rite of passage

But not too dark

Dark means evil

But doesn’t dark ward off evil too?