From the time I was fifteen until I was twenty three, I played out a version of my parents’ relationship in each of my own.  I had many boyfriends, and even one husband, who were emotionally abusive, and a few who turned it physical.  I was conflicted between a self that I kept secret, one that would fight to stay intact but rarely revealed herself, and the self that took it, who never talked back or questioned, the one who stayed and kept repeating the same short story, over and over again.   

With each new relationship, I reinvented myself, adapting to the needs and interests of my audience.  I would like the things that they liked and do what they wanted.  With each new boyfriend, I threw away all my old tapes and albums and bought all new music.  I wore my hair and dressed the way that they liked.  I even took on their prejudices, ate their anger.  I was the perfect girlfriend.  I never asked them to change, instead I adapted accordingly.

 

© Salahub 2003