In Your Eyes

There are words you don’t say but we both know are true. You wait for me to say it. So if it makes you feel better to know where I stand, then I’ll make it clear. I need you. You don’t need me but I need you. I need you to tell me what to wear. Is my skirt too short? Is my shirt too small? Does my hair look nice like this? I need you to tell me how to act. In the room, you don’t want me to talk, so I don’t talk. I sit there silently, meant to be looked at and not heard. I wasn’t meant to be heard, because you are always right. You leave me with nothing to say. My ideas are already yours. I need you to make the money and to bring it home, to have a stable job. I need you to pay for my clothes and hair appointments each week. To pay for my organic meals and my house. When we go to a restaurant, the waiter always hands the bill to you. Because I am incapable of paying for it, and everyone knows it. Because you wanted me to dress up and hold your arm. Not to pay. I need you. I need you to explain it to me. I don’t understand difficult calculus problems and chemical equations. Thank you for making it make sense. Otherwise, I don’t know where to go. Constantly I search for direction because I’m confused by where I am or where I’m going. Like one of those clueless cartoon characters, I wander aimlessly without a purpose.

When you say you want skinny legs, of course, I’ll try my best to eat less, but still enough to be curvy in the right places. If you say you like soft tones, I’ll remove sharp criticism from my voice. When you say you want me to look sexy, would it help if I took off my clothes? When you say I’m showing off, I’ll put on a jacket instead. One of my favorite pastimes is browsing through the aisles of Sephora, finding makeup to make me look prettier for you. When you say you like me naturally though, I’ll take it off. I’ll sit on the sidelines when you say I can’t be good at sports. When you say you want kids, of course, I’ll become a mother. Then you say I should stay home, I stay and clean every inch of the house. If you say I’m being too bossy, or too loud, I retreat to silence. When you say I’ll never be good enough, smart enough, I believe you. When you say I should help with the kids, first I’ll quit my job to make sure I have enough time. When you feel threatened by my accomplishments, I downplay them. When you hit me and tell me to be better, I’ll change. When you ignore me, all I want is to gain your attention. When you leave me, I can’t go on until I get you back.

My only dream in life is to wait by the door for when you come home, greet you, and ask you about your day. That is all I want in life, to ask you what you want for dinner, or if I can pour you some wine. To hear about your day and lie next to you at night. My dreams are contained within the walls of the house, and they don’t dare venture further. Thank you for giving me a purpose.

I’ll cook for you when you’re busy, I’ll dress up for you when you want to show me off, I’ll stay home so you can work, and I’ll take care of the kids since that’s my job. I’m the one that waits for you when you come home. I’m the kindergarten teacher who picks up the small wooden blocks dropped on the floor, teaching addition when I understand quantum physics. I’m the one who comes to clean your house every Wednesday, to admire the architecture I could never build. I’m the babysitter who watches your kids while you attend business dinners. I’m the nurse who checks your blood pressure before you see the doctor, the doctor who will make critical decisions about your health. I’m the waitress serving you your meal I never made, which I take from the chef’s hands and give to you. I’m behind the front desk as you walk into your office, I’ll write your name, and tell you what big meetings you have that day that I won’t be able to attend. I hand you your coffee while you type emails. I’m the mother to your child. You grow a child inside of me, you care for it and provide for it. And when the child is born you protect it. You ensure that no harm ever comes to that child and that no harm ever comes to me. You control my body for my safety. I’m not old enough, capable enough to know what I want. Sacrifice my freedom, please. Make me a mother, the mother you will never be. Even after you’ve taken my money and left me with nothing, give me strength to raise this child. When I end up sleeping outside the gas station across the street, after abandoning my degree and lacking your support, when our child grows up not knowing their father, and constantly feeling hungry, I’ll praise your decision. My body, your choice.

I’m sorry that sometimes I was too loud, that I had an opinion on who should be the next president, on how interest rates have impacted the economy. It pained me when my opinions made you reconsider yours. I shouldn’t have even said them. I’m sorry that even after almost starving, I wasn’t skinny enough for you, that my body wasn’t attractive enough to provide you with pleasure. I’m sorry I wore a hoody instead of a dress. I’m sorry I made you watch the kids that one time on my best friend’s birthday. I’m sorry that I said no. I’m sorry for screaming it, for trying to make myself heard. I’m sorry for that one time when we entered the room and I stood next to you instead of behind you.

So go ahead, force yourself on me. Ignore my screams. Replace my last name with yours. Whistle at me when I walk by, call out my name. Tell me I should be prettier, softer, more delicate. Take my job because you think you’re more qualified than me. Question my accomplishments. Control my body and my success. Scan me up and down with your narrowed eyes. Judge me. Interrupt me. Rank me. Don’t let me talk.

You were always right, you knew how I felt. The hours it took me to clean the house, my favorite pastime, the joy it gives me to change outfits five times because I knew you wouldn’t approve. You understood. So I’ll say it. I’ll say what’s been on my mind and what keeps me up at night. I need you to tell me who I am, and what I stand for. So someday when you leave me, when there is no one to wait for, when I don’t have to look over my shoulder, when my days aren’t centered around you, and someone asks me who I am, I’ll know what to say.