Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Why didn't she just cut off her hair in the first place?

I mean seriously, waiting up there to be rescued (by a man, of course); in reality waiting for anyone really. It's just not going to happen is it? Not in my world anyway. I quite liked the story of Rapunzel as a child. I adored the notion of being rescued from evil; no longer trapped in the towering prison. It just doesn't happen in real life. In fact, in real life, it's much worse, because sometimes you're purposefully left there to squander, and sometimes a whole lot of people help put you there in the first place! The subverting of the plot was my cheeky feminist touch. I loved that the Rapunzel character rescued herself by using her hair as a rope. What was the point of bringing the prince up to the tower? She needed to get out, and you can't climb down your hair if it's still attached to your head - so off it came. It suits me really. I loved that I could take a well known story, and change it to say something dramatic, something much more powerful than the original fairytale.

Warning: personal content following.

Ask yourself - how well do I really want to get to know 'Little Miss Wave'?

'Rapunzel' is a poem of anger. An 'in your face' to people who think that it is not their responsibility to do something for others. That every time you ignore a child, render them useless, you put up another block that separates them from the world they are supposed to dwell in.

'Rapunzel' is a story of survival. It is inspiration; acknowledging that it is possible to overcome adversity. 'Rapunzel' quite aptly describes my teenage years, a living hell I would not curse anyone with - made much, much worse by meddling, ignorant individuals who saw only what they wanted to see.

It is a redraft of a poem I wrote in 2003. In fact, it has quadrupled in size, but I am happy with it now. I also enjoyed 'helping' my hubby to photo shop a picture that I took of the Taj Mahal. Clearly I chopped out a few bits and pieces here and there, and changed the colour totally. Now it fits my poem ♥

The silent figures are a group of adults in my life, who allowed themselves to be misled, and assumed that I had nothing of importance to say. The 'insightful libertarian' is Lady Justice , the irony being that justice was so often not served by the adults in my life, who allowed the metaphoric blindfold to stop them from seeing my point of view. These people would seek guidance from each other, and congratulate themselves on being able to 'see' past the untruth that had filled my family's life. How wrong they were. Instead, they forced lies and cover up to become an integral part of life, something that scorned, and burned, and continued to demean everyday.

As a child, I waited for someone to help, my siblings waited for someone to help. There were a few people who were told of our plight, but many others who continued to perpetrate the myth. To make matters worse, other adults joined in the game, knowing that the old excuses would cover them too. In the end, most of the adults who had been told of our plight, decided not to act, or believed the untruths that they were told when they confronted the accused. And so began a cycle - the victim become the accused, and the tower grew taller.

There was always light though, from a small open 'window'. A window, that offered a glimpse into another world, a life that was possible. An inner voice telling me that I would survive, that it wouldn't last forever, and that I would get out eventually - I just had to do it for myself.

And so I did. I prepared, I planned, and one day I had enough. I just left. However, I left behind three others, three wonderful people who had helped me in the battle of survival, three wonderful people who have now all escaped their own minarets.

A lot of people say I am pessimistic. They don't know me at all. you can't live like that for twenty years and not have optimism coursing through your veins. Next time someone tells you something, actually decides that you are the one who can help, make sure you listen. It is important that children are not left to rescue themselves.

Thank you for reading my poetry, I understand that a lot of you wait for the explanation before you comment, and I appreciate that. Please feel free to leave your comments either here or on the actual poem. I welcome you comments, and look forward to the feedback.


  1. Hmmmmm, no comments :) That's ok guys. It was a bit full on, that's why I posted the lighter, nicer poem about the grandfather and the child.

    I understand completely.

  2. You ask the question - Why didn't she just cut off her hair in the first place?

    Another view - What should she do when the hair is cut off by another to ensure she never leaves the tower? Why does the hair hold such power?
    Trapped in a world she doesn't want to believe is her own. She must wait patiently until it has grown back to make the break.

  3. I forgot that your hair was cut off. I am sorry xoxox