Narrative Visual Perspective in English

Personal Lyrical Essay

Girls Should 

You used to have short hair.  

Not the type short to shoulder, 

But short to ear.  

You have a conversation with your aunt, or a representation because she is the only one speaking.  You are a good audience, sitting on one side of the long rectangular table, still and smiling.  Aunt sits on the other side, drinking coffee.  The stream climbs up from her cup, twists in the air, blurring her face.

She scans at you from head to toes and starts, “You look more like a girl. ” 

“You looked like a ‘faked boy’ when I first met you,” she laughs, “but better now. “

You have longer hair right now.  

It finally reaches your shoulder after two months.

She sips her coffee and continues, “Girls should keep their hair long.” 

“How could a girl be beautiful without long hair? “ Aunt stares at you.  

It is a question, but you know she is not asking, so you say nothing.  Maybe you do say something.  Maybe it is covered by your aunt’s voice.  Maybe the table is too long to let your aunt hear.  

She mentions the story of your cousin, but you have already heard about it.  You are tired to make comments on the same events, because you still remember…

It was around the same table, which seemed to be shorter at that time.  Your cousin was presented–she sat beside the table quietly.

“When your cousin was a kid, she wanted to donate her hair, “Aunt remembered something fun.

“I denied her idea, it was so stupid, and she cried. ” 

You glanced at your cousin, she kept silent.  

The hair passes your hips, knees, and toes. 

It grows into the dirt, deeper and deeper, turning to roots.

You are arrested and jailed.

“What did she know?  Would I abuse her?” Her voice was sharp due to excitement. 

“Of course not, but why not give her a chance.” You tried to say something for your cousin.

“No,” Aunt frowned at you, “you have thousands of ways to show your kindness, you don’t have to cut your hair!”

You opened your mouth and some words came out, but they were not enough to compose a sentence.  Aunt’s voice came from remote.  

“Kids don’t understand,” she interrupted you and made her conclusion.  

She glanced at you with depression, doubt, and dissatisfaction, so you shut up.  

You hold a knife,

But you cannot save your life,

Because you are not allowed to cut your hair. 

So you die in their stare.

Aunt tells her story again and again, never change.  She has her ideology, no one could disagree.  You finally understand your cousin’s silence, so you become her.  Aunt is a king, a god, and the world you couldn’t against.  

So sit there, still and pretty, only an empty shell.