Unapology

I’ve spent too much of my life apologizing
Saying “sorry” for parts of me.
I’m sorry if I embarrass you—
Actually, no I’m not.
I live my own life
I am my own woman
I will not be ashamed
To bear my whole self.
I refuse to recant
These pieces of me
Even if they are shattered
Or broken.
I am my own person.
I have a quick mind
A sharp wit
A sharper tongue
An iron heart.
I won’t take back my innocence,
I will not hide my softness.
My hide is thick
(much like my thighs)
But I do not mind
And I’ll never change.
My footsteps echo
In my favorite heels.
My male friend cowers,
“Your shoes are so loud.”
I smile.
I keep walking.
I don’t break my stride.
Let people look
Let them stop and stare.
Are they distracted by the way I walk?
Held captive in the way I talk?
Is it my wild hair, my deep blue eyes,
How I act like I don’t care?
I do not hide behind my peers,
Lose myself in a crowd,
Or bury my face in my clothes.
I look forward, chin up.
I am confident, brave.
I am unapologetic.
I will no longer say sorry
For my jagged, unclean edges.
Some parts of me are smooth, some pretty,
Some painful to the touch.
But you cannot take a part of me
Without holding all the rest.
I am not a thing to be divided,
A citrus fruit that comes segmented.
You do not get to choose
Which piece of me to love.
With me, it’s all-or-nothing
I’m sorry
But I’m not sorry.
I do not mind.
I’ll never change.
This is my unapology.