Reclaiming the F Word

My mother sent me a text today
about the explosive F Bomb in my Facebook status.
You majored in English,
you’re better than that
word.

Fuck, mom.
The word is fuck.

Fuck, a word deemed vulgar,
classless, unwelcome in society,
wrong.

Fuck and I have a lot in common.

It wasn’t so long ago
that I was demonized,
told by society that I am less
than the other words in the sentence,
unnnatural, causing trouble,
acting out.

You say fuck is lazy,
it makes me less
because it doesn’t fit
into society’s puzzle.

But fuck is a gut punch,
it’s fierce and strong
and all the things you taught me to be,
mom.

I think fuck is beautiful.
Fuck is the exasperated voice
of struggle
Fuck is a fight
against the odds
Fuck is challenging authority,
saying that society does not define me
that I am perfect the way I am
in my flawed, homosexual skin.

Restrain yourself,
don’t use such language.
Release yourself,
be bold and brazen.

Fuck the norm.
Fuck the people
who say your life is worth less
because it’s not a pretty package.
Fuck the wars
and the politicians sending us to them.
Fuck the violence and the hatred,
throw all the weight off your shoulders
to the ground.
Don’t let them resign you
to a bad taste in the mouth
that can be removed with a bar of soap.

Because you’re not just a pretty word,
you’re fucking beautiful.

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Reclaiming the F Word

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