Dear Coach,

I don’t even know your name,
But on that day, you told me to change,

It was hot inside the gym that day,
Sweaty bodies running without delay,

Like the boys before me, I shed my shirt,
But unlike them, you picked me to hurt.

With barely a second thought, you yelled to me,
In front of everyone, you told me who I had to be.
The ideal girl, modest and without modernity.

You probably thought you were protecting me,
upholding your long line of female ancestry,
Years of being conformed and told who you had to be.

But Coach, though you may have meant well,
By the patriarchy you upheld,
You shackled me to dwell.

So here is what I think,
Of that day when you brought me to the brink,
Of tears taking their time,
As the boys ran ahead and I fell behind.

It wasn’t equal. It wasn’t fair.
Woman to woman, let us care.
And for the next woman who runs,
Let her be the woman she wants to become.