I Am Not Yours

• Chelsy-Lee Ordonez De Cross, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2021

I was not made to be nice. Not to be easy, nor comfortable for you to look at, not acceptable in the eyes of those who wish to define me. Those who deem my existence wrong, un-worthy, un-imaginable. I was made for sharp tongues, for the haze of Autumn days, for the sting of hot rays. I wasn’t made for you; never will I be for you. I was made in the whispers of those who didn’t make it. They spoke my strength into existence, through the tears of their own. They did not build me up to be quiet. They did not build me up to sit and listen. They did not build me up to be knocked down. They built me for greatness. For the whip of my words, for the slice of my intellect, for my ability to silence those who have only been taught to speak over others. No, I won’t be yours. I will be mine. I shall not poke and prod at the body that holds me. Nor will I silence the thoughts that question yours. Never will I doubt the power I have been given. I will bite the hand that feeds me, I will snap at the hand which tries to conceal me. I am not yours. I am not a pretty pedestal, never a stepping stool. I will not be behind you or beneath you. I will be beside you, pushing, pulling, prancing. Not in silence, not in question, but in determination. Determined to be, to be passionate, young, old, beautiful, ugly, loud, loving, cunning, running. Running barefoot on a slab of burning coals. Persevering through each blister, only looking down to appreciate the feet which move me. I am not just my father’s daughter, not a product made to be bought. I am a child of the trees, a lover of the wind, a friend of the moon, a sister to the sun.
I am not yours.