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written in Germany, 1988
I was born as one of the attempts on the path to a son
how worthless I felt after my brother was born
I believed that something must be wrong with me
because I did not have dangling between my legs
this most important and treasured thing
that turned my brother into my father’s and grandfather’s god
that gave him attention and power I could not even dream of
that granted him rights inaccessible to me
hidden deep inside lived passionate rage at this “small difference”
at this insane injustice that banned the women of my background
from acting freely and from embracing professions
powerless, degraded, desperate, full of hatred
the child’s soul burnt her precious life force—while she learned
to succumb to being a member of the lower caste
you had a special wooden door on the island, father
where only the names of the male members of your family
were carved—as if a woman never had crossed this threshold
as if the existence of female family members was insignificant
I tried hard to be wild and tough like a boy
how much I wanted to be a boy
I played soccer with boys, fell often, had countless bloody knees
but nothing worked—my lack rendered me worthless
this special thing gave money and power, influence and status
bigger cars and more rights, university degrees and professions
the freedom of traveling and getting away
and above all the right to rule in a powerful authoritarian way
over the whole family
© Barbara Rogers
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Screams from Childhood |
