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You did not have a name. It’s not that I didn’t have dozens – hundreds – picked out, of course; it’s just that naming you would have made this all too real. So I will call you child, and hope you don’t find it too condescending.
This world is not the one I wanted for you.
Only now it’s in this convoluted state where it’s a joke, but it isn’t, but it is? It’s a stereotype versus a color, but a prejudice nonetheless. And now it transcends ethnicity and reeks havoc among social classes.
I had hoped better for you.
Everyone is right. Everyone is wrong. Extreme opinions rule the world, and those that concede to “agree to disagree” are deemed weak, incompetent, or dull.
You deserved better than this.
Child, your mom knows this best. Self-doubt is the foundation on which I’ve built my world. I’m sorry for not being stronger for you. I’m sorry for not setting a better example for you.
If you were a girl, I’d be a terrible example for you. I do not love my body, and I would never be able to convince you that I did.
If you were a boy, I wouldn’t know how to teach you to make a woman feel beautiful, feel special, feel worthy, feel important.
You needed more than this.
Perhaps it was a blessing after all, child.
Thank you for reading,
~ Victoria Elizabeth