Don’t treat her that way,

People told me.

How could you act like this?

“She’s your mother.”

It’s unbecoming to cut you off,

They say,

Just like it was unbecoming

To stop talking to my father

After the unspeakable things I went through

Thanks to him,

Because, you said,

“He’s still my father.”

As if the status of parenthood

Gifts you a free pass in life.

As if birthgiving

Is a Get Out Of Jail Free Card.

Here’s what I know now,

As a motherless daughter;

A motherless mother;

A motherless mother of two daughters,

One that I birthed and one that is…me:

I will not always get it right,

But I have a better shot at it

If I don’t worry about what other people

Think may be unbecoming.

What I apparently need to do

Is work on unbecoming everything

You tried to mold me into.

I am unbecoming,

And I will lean into that

Harder than a drunk with vertigo

Before I ever give you credit

For anything good I’ve done.

I need to unbecome

To raise my daughter

And reraise myself

To be everything they should be,

To be the best thing

That ever happened

To themselves

And to me.

You don’t get to touch them.

And if that makes me the villain to you,

If that’s unbecoming,

So be it.