django grootmyers
As women, we learn that deviancy from the status quo can hearken fatal consequences. By the time we are four, we are experts at eggshell walking. We know exactly how to calculate every step so our environment is undisturbed, all while rapidly absorbing new information from that environment and learning from it.
We are like AI of mind-blowing sophistication. Reality itself is an ever-shifting series of razor blades and iron spikes. We never know what we will need to dodge next, and how many eggshells we’ll be punished for cracking in the process. Adaptation is the only means for survival, and we accept that living is synonymous with getting hurt.
So, naturally, when a man I was in a relationship with lied to me (and then lied about lying to me), I believed him. After all, I’m dramatic. And emotional. Of course I was jumping to irrational conclusions. Obviously, I was jealous.
This was the reality in which I wrote Jealous. The collection is informal. Messy. There’s a lot about it I would change. But it captures the genuine admiration I had for this person. It illustrates my desperate longing for a taste of the childlike egocentricity that leads him through life. I know that sounds like an insult. You have to trust me that from my perspective it’s the highest compliment. I wanted to unlock the secret of his selfishness and take it for myself.
Writing these poems gave me an opportunity to navigate that experience and grow from it. There’s also an element of atonement in these poems, although I’m not convinced that I ever had anything to atone for. My feeling now is that some strong reactions are reasonable, even if they make the other person feel bad. It’s noble to care, and it’s our human right to react when we get hurt. I’m not saying my reaction was perfect. But the reaction itself was not a bad thing and isn’t something to apologize for.