There is a violence in being simplified.
In watching your life reduced to a cautionary tale.
In hearing your motherhood translated into statistics and sympathy.
They call you “strong” when they mean abandoned.
They call you “resilient” when they mean unsupported.
They borrow words like failure, broken, struggle
and place them gently at your feet
as if they belong to you.
They narrate your life in headlines:
Single mother.
Broken Home
Absentee father.
As if those three words explain the fullness of your love,
your discipline,
your exhaustion,
your becoming.
They rewrite your story in shorthand
and call it understanding.