by anonymous
never again will I envythe girl who gets a debutante ballor six.thrown as a celebration ofmoney?knowing people?being beautiful at the right age?being the color of a band-aid before her spray tan?
she floats in white around a smiling roomcarefully guarded by white hoods hidden under black tuxedos,champagne half spills out of dawling accents;
“my, what a doll you are”“the vision of your grandmama”“prettiest girl in the room”“now do you have a young man of your own?”“well I’m sure you would have no trouble getting one if you wanted to”“you know your mother was just the prettiest debutante there ever was”
some say womanhood comes the first time she bleedsothers says it’s the day she floats down the aisle of a country club ballroom in a conservative wedding dress towards a groom who is impolite to waiters but always holds the door open for those who are well-dressed enough.
or she’s twenty years old and the groom ismoney?knowing people?being beautiful at the right age?being the color of a band-aid before her spray tan?
never again will I envythe girl who gets a debutante ball or six.here lies nostalgia for antebellum royalty bricks of what they call good southern tradition laid by and on the backs of colorthe ghosts of slave women longing to be seen as beautiful to be given a celebration of their own to marry men who hold the door open for the tired the poor the huddled masses who still aren’t free they scream in pain beneath the ghosts of masters who used them instead.
band-aids don’t fix bullet holes.never again will I envythe girl who gets a partyor sixthat celebrates nothing importantthat doesn’t welcome the tired and the poor to the tablethat remembers fondly a time we must stop being proud of.