Author’s Note: This is an emulation of an emulation, funnily enough. It’s based off of a student poem that Hunnisett read to us in class awhile back, and I decided to make my own version of it. The original poem was The Jews that We Are, and the emulation I based this off of was The Women that We Are

To put this in context, I wrote this poem to address an issue I’ve been bothered about for the longest time. The whole concept of romantic love is pushed down our throats constantly, even when we’re young kids who shouldn’t really be considering that sort of thing. Now, I’m not saying that kids shouldn’t at least be curious about love, but I always noticed as a child that we were constantly having the idea of romantic love shoved down our throats. When I was nine, I had a male friend and I thought I liked him, because that was what society told me. I was told that because we had common interests and we were a boy and a girl, that I should like him, but in hindsight, I saw him no differently than my female friends. I’m quite honestly fed up with the constant narrative being pushed that everyone needs a romantic relationship. My own parents push this onto me, they always tell me that I’m “missing out” by not pursuing someone. Quite frankly, I’m sick of this. I hate the idea that everyone needs a romantic relationship, it’s almost saying that you can’t create happiness on your own, or that friends just aren’t enough to give you a fulfilling life.

---

i) I am seven years old,
and my friend has just told me
that she likes a boy.
Even though he teases her
and chases her
and he makes fun of her.
In the sweltering noonday sun
with her face flushed,
she admits that she wants to kiss him.
Even though we are too young
the idea of romance
has been ingrained in our minds.
Enforced onto us,
shoved down our throats
until we have no choice
but to accept it.

ii) I am still seven
and I’ve learned
that the sidewalk is too short
to accommodate three people
walking side by side.
I walk behind my parents,
resentful of them.
I watch my mother
berate my father
and wonder
if this is what ‘love’ is.
To have no siblings
to confide in
is a tragedy,
to have no one
to walk alongside me
when my parents
hold hands and leave me
to chase them up the sidewalk
is a tragedy.

iii) I am eight,
and a boy is bullying me.
Upset with his petty insults,
I tell my parents
but am met with the words,
“He must like you,
all boys tease girls that they like.”
Defiant, I refuse
to accept their words.
This isn’t love, I know it isn’t.

iv) I am nine.
This boy is still in my class.
I am still told
that is his insults are compliments
and his berating is affection.
I decide
that if this is love,
I do not want it.

v) I am eleven
and my resentment is growing.
My friend is ignoring me
for a boy.
I am second best,
the support I’ve given her
for years, is nothing
in comparison
to his temporary affection
and his hollow compliments.
My friendship is nothing to her.
I vow to never turn out like that.
I vow to never diminish my friends
for the sake of a boy.

vi) I am twelve
and my mother is concerned.
I haven’t fallen in love yet.
Desperately grasping at straws,
she pulls out a stack of photos,
photos of “attractive” actors,
and she asks me which ones
I think are attractive.
Scowling, I say none.

vii) I am fourteen
and I’ve found it
I have cracked the code.
Unearthed the secret with my bare hands
clawing at the dirt until my nails tore
and my fingers bled,
I found the name.
Aromantic.
One that doesn’t experience romantic attraction.
I try to tell people,
but I’m told I’m too young to decide
that this is my title.

viii) I am sixteen.
And maybe I’m not aromantic,
maybe they were right,
even if I don’t want to say it.
But do I know what love is?
How can you fall in love
when you don’t know what it is?
How can you fall in love
when you don’t know how to love?

ix) I am seventeen.
and I have been told
time and time again
that falling in love is the greatest thing
that will ever happen to me.
Perhaps, for some it is,
but for myself,
someone that doesn’t know
how to even love herself,
it is not.