I’ve shrugged things off, jokingly pulled up shorts to make them even shorter, laughed with friends about how moms say the darnedest things, and quietly accepted the comments as just another part of what it means to be a woman in this day and age. How many times have we pretended not to hear our mothers’ comments about our weight or the length of our dresses? Over the years I’ve learned to ignore and deflect comments that hurt.
#Dear mama poem how to#
But when the slut-shaming and the body-policing comes from somebody who also loves you and wants what’s best for you, knowing how to handle your relationship with them and maintain your self-esteem becomes a bigger challenge.
Schools are constantly shaming girls for their bodies with ridiculous dress codes. Too many men feel entitled to comment on how women look when they're out in public. It’s not like women don't receive unwanted comments about our bodies and our sexuality from other people. Edewi's poem, read in a video titled " Things I Wish I Could Tell My Mom," addresses some of the conflicting and harmful things mothers say to their daughters and is a reminder of how those same comments can be passed down if we're not careful. read more.When I first heard the poem "Dear Mama" by Daysha Edewi, it reminded me of something I don't acknowledge as often as I think I should: my mother is also somebody's daughter, and she's also gone through many of the things I'm currently going through. So if all goes well I will see you again soon Yours sincerely Simon. You can't do nothing! Lets go!" To end my letter on a positive note to you, there is word spreading around the trenches that the war will be over by Christmas. He was choking on the lethal green smoke. I just stood and watched my poor friend die. He dropped his mask and that was the end of him. We all scuttled and managed to get our masks on, before the gas choked us to death.
"Put on your masks now!" the general shouted. About a month ago there were gas attacks, like I have never seen before. We are sitting ankle deep in mud, and everything is wet and cold. The general says go, and we have to go, regardless of weather we die or not.read more. We have to go over the top of the trenches, and advance to gain territory, even under heavy fire. Now the ones that I see, are not just dead, but mutilated. When I marched down the streets and saw people cheering and waving flags, when I read the poem about war being like a game, I thought it would be great, but it is far from that. Despite what everyone says, I feel I have been lied to. They had been given white feathers, a sign of cowardly behavior. I remember how my friend Johnny signed up, and said to me, "Come on Simon, it will be fun.". Everyone around me feels the same way that I do. I am prepared to die for this, to save you and others alike. I'm feel I am doing something noble, and honorable, protecting our way of life from those beastly Germans. I have been thinking how proud you are of me. We are out on the western front, and no postmen have come for days. Dear mama How are you? Are Papa and my two little sisters doing well? I am missing you, are you missing me? I am sorry that I have not been able to write to you sooner.
0 kommentar(er)
