Putting the 'Me' in Melodramatic

I stumbled into the lap of the poem, "God Says Yes to Me", written by Kaylin Haught, near the hazy beginning of this semester. I was perusing my Women's General Studies textbook, shrouded in self-disappointment blues, frustrated with myself before I found it.

So it was quite a shift when I read the first words, hunkered in a cafe, wrapped in my text, illuminated by dust sprinkled sunlight, and felt the squeeze of an ethereal hug. If there is one constant in my life, it is the unvoiced question, "Is this ok?" that hinges on my every choice, interaction, or badly framed joke. In this pocket of a moment, I felt the truth of Haught's poem proudly proclaiming "Yes!" to all my blubbering life attempts.

Kaylin Haught's casual vernacular and word choices are both specific and vague enough to taste familiar to each reader. The purity of her craft and intentions are glued to my mind.  

I asked God if it was okay to be melodramatic

and she said yes

I asked her if it was okay to be short

and she said it sure was.

The words of the poem were like old friends, familiar inside me right away. I'd asked God if my melodrama was 'okay' through multiple bought of sniffles recently. My rambunctious emotions seemed to be another reminder of my insufficiency. This poem was a much needed reminder that I wasn't insufficient at all. The immediate personification of God as a women was unconventional, but I asked God if it was okay for him to be portrayed as a woman for the sake of giving girls a hypothetical, divine mother role model, and he said it sure is. I don't believe this poem is propaganda trying to sway my opinion on the gender of God. By using the pronoun 'she', the poem is empowering women to give themselves permission. I personally find myself constantly scampering around to please men who govern the bulk of my life. Every boss I've had, my favorite teachers and professors, many inspirational artists, and everyone I've been in love with, is a man. God is a man. I inspect my work and my actions through their metaphorical monocles. But a woman has a different life experience than a man, regardless of innate or societal origins. This poem is merely pointing out that women are also a source of validation. The bond of women is an empowering force, even in a patriarchy, and God's feminine attributes are as prevalent as masculine.

I asked her if I could wear nail polish

or not wear nail polish

and she said honey

she calls me that sometimes

she said you can do just exactly

what you want to

I fell in love with the casual, succinct phrases. Haught rejected the gaudy words of Shakespeare for the colloquial words of friendship. There is no pedestal between the asker and God. In fact, this excerpt convinces me God isn't just personified as a woman conversing with a girl, but as a mother and a child. 'Honey' is a term of endearment first tied to a mom. I was struck by how effortlessly the poem linked the love of the two together, strengthening the effects of both. The intimacy of a mother is projected onto God, and the limitless power of truth is bestowed on the mother. The choice to plant the words, "You can do just exactly what you want" on the cusp of God's lips is vehement. Suddenly the confirmation transcends the culture that says you should wear nail polish. The poem isn't condoning all action--murder is still out of the question. No, in this poem, God is broadening the boa-constrictor like, man-made rules that ruthlessly tell me make-up is always a better choice, curled hair is more important than sleep, and I should spend my scrappy grocery money on nail polish. Every time I read this poem, I breath deeper with each stanza. It relieves the pesky, air clogging stress tirelessly converting me to the idea that society has discovered the exclusive right answers.

Thanks God I said

And is it even okay if I don't paragraph

my letters

Sweetcakes God said

who knows where she picked that up

what I'm telling you is

Yes Yes Yes

Again there is an act of defiance from the higher powers that be, opposing the menial rules culturally set in place. God doesn't care if we paragraph our letters or prayers. Mothers don't care if letters are properly formatted. The cosmos doesn't care if women pluck their eyebrows before they perform an act of service. Mom's don't notice a cute outfit when you're barreling into them, crying over an emotional boo-boo. These arbitrary rules are allowed. to be ignored. They don't define us as people. The last line is impactful because it extends beyond the quarantine of what has been mentioned in the poem. Historically, women have always had to ask permission from their fathers or husbands. Repeating 'yes' three times indicates a freedom some girls don't realize they have. Girls have been granted an eternal yes, and it it not as scarce as I, as well as many other girls,  anticipate it to be. Girls everywhere are asking if it's okay to stop shaving their legs, or to get married, or if they don't get married. God, as symbol of the ultimate power, is approving the symbol of choices prohibited from women in the past. You don't have to be smart or rich to receive an emphatic, feminist 'yes' from God.

Despite growing up claiming the title 'feminist' as one claims the title 'princess', I am guilty of boundless female stereotypes. I loved barbies. I will not touch a bug with my bare flesh. I am wretchedly emotional and melodramatic. My ex-boyfriend repeatedly told me he was a saint for putting up with me all four weeks of the month. I feel fat at any given moment. Amid all these qualms with myself, I inevitably find myself asking someone--anyone-- "are these flaws okay?" Haught's poem assuages my worries so sweetly with the firm "Yes" that belongs to me and everyone else. Her words are a celebration of diversity and a poetic advertisement combatting the ever-clustering media tactics convincing girls they are not okay unless they buy a certain product. The multiple questions in the poem encourage the reader to inquire instead of relying on manipulative ads and social norms. Rather than assuming wearing nail polish is right, the protagonist in the poem asks a cosmic perspective to guide her. Someone with yarns more knowledge than she has. Since soaking in these stanzas, I muse over where, when, and from whom I seek validation. My encounter with this poem has molded me into a more assertive self.