I was 11
In Grade 6
Undeveloped
Training bra
No cycle
Unwanted moisture in my panties
From a body about to blossom
I wore a skirt
A shirt that zipped
Bell rings
Class dismissed
Into the hall we pour
He was my age
16 in green though
He laughed
In his group
See her shirt, “aww man, if I could just unzip it, I’d suck on them titties.”
.Suck on them titties.
I overheard
But I was 11
Felt violated
Felt gross
But confused the most
Close my locker door
Hustle down the hall
Arms crossed over my chest
But there’s nothing to lick
I have buds, not breasts
I know that’s what this stage is called
My momma read a book to me
About what’s happening to my body
Did I just cause someone to lust
All by simply wearing a shirt
Did I sin, did I sin
Still a child
Mind innocent
Crack in my soul
Some dark gets in
Never wore my favorite shirt
Again
>>>>>>>>>>written by: Stacy Johnson, January 23rd, 2019, 10:53 am
This is simply a spoken word poem I wrote on my first experience of being sexualized that I can recall. Allowing myself to go back to these places, is a part of me identifying moments that brought shame and guilt that I’ve carried. While not the intention of the religion I was raised in, it was my internalization of it, none-the-less. I am reclaiming the parts of myself that I lost or let go of long ago. And this moment is one in which I’m calling out to my younger self, “This wasn’t your burden to carry baby girl.”
I have an 11 year old daughter, she is wild and strong. She would yell, “Fuck You,” to a boy speaking such over her. And I would applaud her.
Singing Over My Bones 