She twirls around.
Dancing and humming to a song her older sister used to sing.
A sister her mother does not want to speak about because she is “wild.”
A woman must be poised, quiet, and serve her husband her mother always says.
Viv jokes in her head, ”Yeah right, that’s if I even desire to ever have a husband.”
She throws confetti in the air and says “I can’t go to a party, so I’ll bring the party to me.”
She FaceTimes her friends who are dancing together.
She laughs with joy because being home alone means no one can judge her at this moment.
No one to tell her, a woman can’t dance provocatively or hang out with guy friends.
She can be whatever she wants to be right now.
She hangs up the call.
She pretends she is a singer next. She jumps on the couch and sings to her favorite song.
She dreams about being in front of a stage performing.
Either dance or music.
“It’s my calling,” she says.
But when she hears her mother turn the doorknob, she sits on the couch.
Prepares a lie for why there’s confetti on the floor.
She looks in the mirror after saying hi to her mom.
She notices her smile has vacated her face once more.
She picks up the confetti, and in her mind, she says, “This is what she wants me to be, an everlasting maid. The girl who sings and dances and throw confetti on the ground is me. What’s so wrong with being fun. My brother can do whatever he wants. Never cleans, cooks or takes care of anyone.”
The list of unfair chores she’s had all her life arise before her eyes.
“I am wild, excited, a kindred spirit. Why must I be poised and quiet? Why must I be what she wants me to be.”
Why must I, why must I, why must I be a person I am not meant to be.
Women are taught generations after generations what to act like, what is expected of them.
“I am more than just a being created to take care of a man and be a mother.”
I am more than, I am more than, I am more than.
She goes into her room.
Writes in her journal.
Is it possible to ever be free without becoming, the daughter they won’t speak about?”