"How did you get like this," she asked me.
As if I followed a faulty map or a poorly written recipe
But I paused before answering
How *did* I get to be this person, this me?
Blame Alice Paul
And Sesame Street
And my grandma
Genetics for the sense I have to disregard dogma
Jane Eyre for voicing thoughts I hadn't the words to speak
Life for the scars
the strength to refuse to repeat history
Point the finger at Shakespeare's Portia, Celie, Elizabeth Bennet and
My fifth grade teacher
Or my rebellious discovery of Sylvia Plath
Maybe it was knitting
Or the first woman I realized I 'loved' loved
Or the position of the moon at the hour I was born.