From the mouths of babes, we get epic poems about feminism
You’re never too young to express your feelings about modern feminism, that’s for sure. An essay circulating Twitter, allegedly written by a third grader, is proof there is hope for the future.
If this isn’t the best thing you’ll read today, we don’t know what is. Someone get this girl a book deal, STAT.
Here’s the poem, titled “The True Feminine” in its entirety:
“I am not sugar and spice and everything nice.
I am music.
I am art.
I am a story.
I am a church bell, gonging out wrongs and rights and normal nights.
I was baby. I am child. I will be mother.
I don’t mind being considered beautiful, I do not allow that to be my definition.
I am a rich pie strong with knowledge.
I will not be eaten.”
Go ahead and pick your jaw up off the floor, because that is Maya Angelou levels of amazing right there. Twitter user Arabelle Sicardi shared the photo of the poem and people are losing it over this young girl’s talent.
Can this be my motto? I'm making it my motto.
Can this be my motto? I'm making it my motto.— Ameeta Ganatra (@AmeetaG) October 3, 2017
Welp, there's no need for me to write anything ever again.
Welp, there's no need for me to write anything ever again.— Wyte Jen O'Cide (@mcbroomifer) October 3, 2017
I will never write anything this beautiful and I have a degree in English. You go, young 3rd grader. Keep baring your brave heart.
I will never write anything this beautiful and I have a degree in English. You go, young 3rd grader. Keep baring your brave heart.— Caitlin Wright (@c8linwright) October 4, 2017
Sicardi tweeted when she herself came across the poem, the original poster who shared this beautiful feminist war cry made themselves anonymous — so she was unable to credit the author. And of course, a few naysayers came online to doubt the authenticity of author’s age. You know what? We underestimate children all the damn time. They are able to comprehend the world around them and express themselves far more eloquently than we give them credit for.
Also, it doesn’t matter who wrote it. This poem deserves to be cross-stitched and framed on a mantel. Let us all go forth as rich pies, strong with knowledge. (We’re not sobbing, you’re sobbing.)