"Mermaid Pink"

She threw it away.
My aunt threw the dress away.
My mom was not there to stop her.
So she threw out my pink dress
with the gray-white fish.

It had a full-circle skirt,
and when I twirled,
the edges of its ocean
rose to meet my fingertips,
and I became a mermaid
in a world of pink water
and swirling silvery fish.

But it was pink
and my hair was red.
(It wasn't red really,
but Auntie said it was
because my dad's was red,
and when the sun lit me
she could see my dad
in my hair.)
Redheads, she said, can't wear pink,
and out it went.

I miss my pink fish dress
even today, fifty years later
because without it,
certain things are true:

It isn't good to have red hair.
A family of redheads is not acceptable.
You can't participate in certain colors,
so certain hills of the world are taboo.
Reds, pinks, purples, oranges,
and yellows must not exist
in my clothes, my head, my eyes.
It's bad to be seen in the wrong color.
It isn't good to revel in
a thing you own and love --
it will be thrown out
if "they" discover this joy.
It is wrong to go
on swims of fantasy
where you are the beautiful mermaid.

Mermaids wear pink and I do not.
Mermaids laugh among the watery air bubbles,
and I do not.

If someone invented sunglasses
with pink eyes and fish of silver,
I would buy them
and enter a new world,
for my hair is still red
and I miss my pink dress
with white-gray fish
swirling round my mermaid tail.

Lera Baker Smith
San Diego, CA
February 8, 2008


Other Poem by Lera Baker Smith:
The Rise and Demise of a Sacred Cow: In Memoriam
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