Pygmalion’s Advice

to Galatea’s daughter, on coming of age: a Patriarchal Primer

for Western Women, bred to breed and be displayed.

“The Beloved dreams of a pedestal till she can’t move a muscle. Shrink

smaller and smaller over time on the outside.

Breathe very softly or he’ll realize you have your own thoughts. Silent

and shiny, a fine trophy is polished, gives him status.

Master the ability to hold a pleasant pose when he looks. Good,

well trained girls find the light and work the angles.

Withold elevated perspective, he fears heights and dissent. Know,

he’ll put his eyes on your eyeballs to see inside your head.

Look hollow, easy to fill with his frustration and children. Open

legs and empty head that echoes opinions in glossy, sweet tones.

Remain still and perhaps he won’t notice ideas bigger than his. Hide

thoughts in the hollow under your tongue and mew.

To have and to hold are words of owning. You’re bought and paid for now. Stay

still, in the kitchen, collared by oaths, don’t wrinkle, look untouched.

Black leather rules, finger bound. Gold circles last. Forever

vows are webs to catch the man that cages you.

Never forget I was first.”

***

This piece contains the lies I held as a young woman. The Patriarchal objectification of humans, the idea that one must earn love, the obsession with outer form, tangible production, and function over true essence. I don’t know that it is completely expunged from my system, but I am here to do the deep work.

With all my Love,

Melissa Naiad