Agency

I chose to be a child bride

I chose this.

I chose to be a child bride.
I chose to set my master’s degree to the side for my husband’s non-existent career aspirations.
I chose to have a baby too young.
And then have two more every two years after the first.
I chose this.

Didn’t I?
Or did the men in the suits choose for me?

Did they choose my future by planting, tending to, and growing these seeds in my mind until I couldn’t see through their jungle?

Did they choose my future by assigning my body a value and an expiration date and convince my mind that’s all I was worth?

Did they choose my future when the women who believed them had me recite assigned values and plan my future wedding when I was just 12?

Did they choose for me
By ripping the color out of my mind
And then smiling when they saw it drain from my eyes until all I could see was black and white?

Did they choose for me when they told me that everything that came to me naturally - my strength and wit and independence - was evil?

Did they choose for me when they told me that my body was a temptation
And that all the lovely, soft, precious parts of me should be hidden because they were a sin?

Did they choose for me when they said to my face I had agency but lied about it all behind my back?
Knives out, poised to plunge into my spine the moment I straightened it too much.

I chose this.

But the choice wasn’t about marriage, or career, or babies.

It was about life and a fate worse than death.
Or, that’s what the men in suits told me.

And I trusted them.
Because they said
They would lead me, guide me, walk beside me, and never lead me astray.

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