white girl

gathering myself up into 

whiteness

critical race theory

hits the streets

and melts onto the 

hot hot heat

of the asphalt 

and runs down

into the drain

washes away

in the rain

as the falling drops

ask you who 

wants to know

who wants to 

care 

about 

you 

white 

girl? 

So, I’ve been studying feminist pedagogy for weeks now, and I’m reluctant to admit, but I’m tired of it. Tired of the complexity, but mostly tired of the anger and frustration, mine, and others’ too. I guess it is one more construct that bites the dust for me, one less thing to believe in, if it ever were a good thing to believe in. Believe, whatever that means. It’s a word like faith, and spiritual, more words and constructs that I’ve grown tired of. And it’s not like I’m totally cynical and unhappy, it’s not like it’s a horrible thing, outside of the boredom of it all. I’m just walking into a different way of feeling and of thinking, which is I guess, a bit more logical. For a long time, Megan, my pragmatic daughter has said, “Mom, I wish I could give you just part of my brain.” Maybe she’s just rubbed off on me enough. Enough. 

Sadly, I still have a lit review paper to write. Seems pointless, but maybe in the completion something else will emerge.