It reeks of red white and blue here
Where he can't get in because his brown skin
Disables him from drinking a Bud Lite
And the black cop stares idly at his own
Being arrested by his white man in blue,
For walking.
And blue lives matter
And black lives matter,
Somehow doesn't
Mean all lives matter,
So the systematic problem is swept under
The rug where a useless statistic
Disguises itself as white privilege,
And a modern Mussolini,
Runs as a candidate to make the country
That slaughtered a man in brown,
To run from his own white-out,
To make America Great Again.
It reeks of Red White and Blue,
Where the mix of colors creates pink,
Fold it into a ribbon and present a government funded disease,
But let's go back to the scent of Red White and Blue,
Fifty stars lay on blue, the men in blue protect and serve the White,
The original 13,
Chapter 13 of my science book said we all have body parts,
My skull is your skull and we all have skulls,
We're ok.
But add some melanin, some skin,
It's a melting pot, a melting pot,
They brought it an unskilled chef,
Now it reeks of Red, White, and Blue.
​

I'll be the first to admit, I'm not an avid TV watcher. It bores the hell out of me. I find myself questioning people's lack of creative energy when I find they're watching TV all day. Wrongly so, perhaps, but my I'm not a go-to person to watch a movie with, unless it's one I've seen five thousand times. In fact, I become strangely annoyed when others are involved in a conversation about a TV show they mutually watch. It feels like I'm listening to the answers of a test I failed because I forgot to study for it. 

I am partial to some programs, however. If there's an awards show with the slightest mention of Beyonce, count me in. If an NBA game is on, count me in. A soccer match, OK I'll be entertained. And if the Olympics are on, yes, you've reeled me in. That's why I've been excited this summer to research, read, and watch the Summer Olympics in Rio. I'm incredibly intrigued by the Women's Gymnastics Team. I love talking about the impossible abilities of Simone Biles, the endurance of Aly Raisman, and Gabby Douglas' returning talent. I love talking about these women because to me, gymnastics is a sport that has proved the strength of women over and over again. Their bodies, the amount of work they have endured to end up on the world's biggest stage to do what they love- to entertain the rest of us- makes me speechless. 

And being speechless while I'm watching any one of their events only builds up the conversation I'm over-wiling to have afterwards. But I cannot help but to hear some people throw words around about their bodies, which are absolutely stunning, in my opinion. I've heard and read comments about this set of women not meeting the standard of the "typical feminine body," and how people, women, are unsure that they'd ever want to attain this particular "masculine physique." 

So, I find myself asking, what is a feminine body? Why is it that definition in any part of a woman's body begins to take away their gender? Are my arms only able to achieve a feminine look if they are thin? If I see some tricep growth, should I be worried? Will I grow a pair of balls if my quadriceps are shown? 

And, somehow, then, the absence of the typical feminine body discredits the ability of these women, to act as women. They are suddenly no longer graceful, we expect them to have a deeper voice, or habits that are simply non-standard of women. And, I think this is utter bullshit. Because these women are talented, and I wish there was a better word for that, the fact that they defy gravity, to me, it seems, suddenly puts them at a risk for some kind of imperfection. To be perfect in their sport means they must be imperfect somewhere else, and so we begin to tear them a part, limb by limb, to a particular female standard. So, what we're saying when we communicate these typicality ideas, is that there is a standard we should gravitate toward, that if we do not, that's okay, but we have disobeyed the standard granted to us by society's regulations. 

So, I say, screw the rules. Bite the bullet. Be imperfect. There's not such thing a typical woman's body to me. There's no such thing as fitting the feminine look. Go to the gym and do your curls, define the bicep. Build your calves. Slim your hips or adore them widened. There is no standard. The physicality of a body is not the producer of a successful or unsuccessful life. It's confidence in who you are, not some nonsensical standard.