
sad girl diaries
Elizabeth Sheline '22
Fall 2017
To my father,
I’d like to introduce myself,
Elizabeth
Female
DOB: 02/04/1997
Ethnicity: I never know what to put here
Two or more races
Short
Sporty
Sophisticated
Sarcastic
Shy
Strong
Sad
Depressed
No, no, we don’t talk about that, remember?
No, fuck that
We do talk about that
I.
Insert Here: [Childhood]
Excuse me, I’m drawing a blank
For good reason
I was born
You were there
For all intents and purposes
Sometimes I wonder,
Does being present for one day
warrant twenty years off?
Thirty years
Forty
I’m being mean.
“At least you have a father.”
At least you don’t beat me.
Or touch me.
Or whatever the hell those white men do
The ones that you arrest
The ones that you don’t talk about
I’m lucky, right?
I guess I should just be happy then
Happy I had one
Even if you weren’t around
Why weren’t you around?
No, nevermind
It doesn’t matter
I’m told it does matter.
But, when have I ever listened to what I’ve been told?
Grandpa died
I cried on the curb by the mailbox
Midday
Tuesday
I don’t know how old I was
Little
I don’t know how he died
But after that, you weren’t around for grandma either
And I’ll admit
I don’t know the full story
But we stopped going over there
She used to babysit
Have sleepovers
We’d pick up Grandma’s Pizza and
I thought she was famous or something
Like it was named after her
Christmas went by and
You paid the phone bill, cable bill
Even bought her a dog
I was there for that
You were there, but not really
I mean, that's kind of how it always is
Pay for shit
Hope it means something
I wonder if grandma ever felt that way, too
I never saw our white family again
after grandpa died
I guess that isn’t entirely true
I would see grandma once a year
Maybe once every two
But that’s kind of pathetic
Cause she was right over on the south side
I forgot Uncle Ernie’s name
And Terry's, too
“Who’s Buddy again?”
“And Missy?”
“What happened with Dad and Ernie?”
“Nothing, they’re just freeloaders.”
“They’re just mad your dad got out
and made something of himself.”
“Ok.”
I forgot about the white side
of our family
Even though, I was “White as hell,”
according to the black kids
from Eastgreen on the Commons
I always did my “homework and shit”
I liked school
And if that’s what made me white
then, shit I don’t know
The kids who had mom in middle school would say,
“Ohhh you Mrs. Sheline’s daughter,
I didn’t know you was black.”
Never really knowing what to say to that
I told you so?
That’s the thing
I didn’t really feel black
But for some reason I still felt like I had to
defend myself
Defend my ancestors
Or something
“My great, great, great grandparents were slaves,”
I’d say, spewing complete bullshit that wasn’t
completely bullshit
I mean, I wasn’t sure
My family
came from Virginia and the Carolinas
I knew that much
I assumed they were slaves
Is that far-off?
Then I think
So what if they were?
Congratulations
For being black?
But
I don’t really feel black
II.
Did you know I was lost?
Did you even want to help me?
Talk to me?
No, because you don’t do that
Remember?
Say something
Anything
I just needed you to
Say something
Did you know I could hear you
Playing grandpa’s guitar downstairs
In the middle of the night
After work
In the dark?
Alone
Whose vodka is in the cabinet
Up over the stove?
Did you just need me to say something?
Anything
III.
One time I saw you
for who you really are
I was fifteen
You always joked
And quoted movies
You have that Will Ferrell,
Steve Carell sense of humor
Dry
Crude
I’ve come to hate it
You were embarrassed that night
Because we had company
My company
Did you ever think
Maybe I was embarrassed of you?
That was it
Truly
As think back
It's hard to remember
Who was the joke about?
Latinos?
No.
A favorite of yours, but no.
Black people?
Ah, 2012
Wasn’t that when
Trayvon Martin was
Killed?
“Rightfully so,”
I imagine you saying.
Whatever it was
It was something
Overtly racist
That awkward laugh
To yourself.
Uncomfortable
Nothing new
But we had company
She might've never noticed
Had it not been for me.
I said something
For the first time
Last time
Only
It was late and
You had to drive her home
I went with you
Even though it was just around the corner
You were pissed
Coughing
Why do you do that?
The coughing
Why do you have to be that?
Racist
When we got back to the house
You stopped on the front porch and
Grabbed my arm
Tight
Blocking my way to the door
Mom was inside
In your bedroom
Inside
I just wanted to get to
Mom
Inside
But she couldn’t save me
No one could save me from
You
It was as if your hate
Grew hands and
Grabbed me by the throat
“I can’t breathe”
We aren’t allowed to say that
Your grip grew tighter around my arm
The pressure of your hate around my neck grew
Heavy, my breathing
Heavy
My heart
Slowed
“Don’t you ever,” you paused
Your bright blue eyes turned black,
“Call me a bigot.”
I think that was the first time I heard that word.
That was the last time I said something.
IV.
You were more on guard after that
I heard this term the other day
Soft-porn racism
It made me laugh
It felt
Familiar
It was in reference to George Wallace
His new strategy
A change-up from the hardcore
“Segregation forever!”
Bigot all the same
I think you took that on for a while
A sort of calm after the storm
But then
Terrorist attacks
Boston Marathon
San Bernardino
Ohio State University
Close to home
Somali refugee
"Inspired by the Islamic State"
“Fucking Somalians”
You didn’t really say anything
At least for some time
Nothing I can remember
Other than Malala jokes
Which are really fucked up
And show me
not only how you feel about Muslims,
but how you feel about women
But you didn't have to say anything though
I already knew
You would just keep the news on
You swore by it
And still do
Fox & Friends
There’s Greta
You fucking hated her
Because you said she was a lesbian
And wasn’t as pretty as Megyn Kelly
Sexist
But you don’t like Megyn anymore
Remember?
Her spat with Trump
Then there’s Bret Baier,
Eric Bolling—again
Shows me what you think of women
The Five
Mom loves The Five
Hannity
O’Reilly—again…
I’m not entirely innocent
I watched it all too
Not even against my will
It was all I knew
We didn’t like Anderson
Because he was gay, right?
We didn’t watch CNN
the “Communist News Network,” right?
We wanted our news
“Fair and balanced”
V.
I resent you
I do
That’s might be hard to hear
It’s not supposed to be easy
I resent you for the things you say
Under your breath
For the things you don’t say
But I know you believe
I resent you for taking away my choice,
What to see, believe, be
The land of the free
I resent you for taking away my family
For sleeping through my childhood
For refusing to acknowledge me
I resent you
For how you have failed
To raise your black daughter
VI.
Now, you might think,
“Where is this coming from?”
Don’t act surprised
You were there last year
When you got the phone call
From the hospital
Yes, the thing we don’t talk about
You drove twelve hours to be by my side
When we both knew that was the last thing I wanted
I bet mom told you it was about Mike
Crying
“I can’t breathe”
All the crying
About a boy
A black boy
How dare he break my heart, right?
How dare you break me.
It’s so easy for a therapist to scrawl
“Dad”
across the page
Sex
Sex
Lots of sex
Trading in your white t-shirt and
the smell of your cologne
for smooth
black skin
legs intertwined
It’s so easy for a therapist to scrawl
“Dad”
across the page
But how the fuck is that supposed to help?
VII.
I raise my hands up
Up over my head
You press the cold gun
Deep in my chest
You dirty, white cop
A pig, at best
With one single round
Release all my stress