What is the one thing about yourself that you don't want anyone to ever know?
Worthless…
Useless…
A mistake…
An accident…
Those are the words that paint my childhood. My mother never wanted me. And she made sure that I knew it. Ironically it would have been better had I been a boy. I know it sounds almost sexist to think that, but in this case it was the truth. I remember at an early age… when we used to go on outings… my mother would dress me in boys clothes… she kept my hair cropped short and never called me by the name my father had given me. Instead she referred to me by my middle name, which was so generic no one questioned. Until I was six everyone thought I was a boy… and she was happy. Then I started school and I was suddenly forced to be a little girl… The called my by my first name, sent me to the girls washroom… and I questioned her… That’s when it started.
My Mother never wanted a daughter.
Girls are so clumsy… she used to tell me. And so many times she was right, falls down the stairs that left bumps and bruises for weeks, accidentally bumping the piano hard enough that the cover crashed down on my fingers… running into a door, breaking my nose for the third time… Even the doctors suspected how clumsy I was, but before I could say anything we would move away and it would start all over… new doctors, new hospitals and a clumsy little girl.
Mom always wanted a son.
Maybe she would be proud of me now; I ended up in the military just as she wanted for her son… I can out fly anyone in the fleet; no-one can beat me on the firing range… I drink, smoke cigars and bullshit with the best. I run with the big dogs, take your money at the card table and break hearts and bodies in the bedroom… My theory in life is to kick ass and ask questions later.
Everything I know I learned from her… She made me into a prodigal son to be proud of. Except she made one mistake…
I am a woman, and proud of it.
I will not let the past rear its ugly head again… I can’t afford to dwell on what once was. I need to be strong now more than ever and to allow myself to luxuriate in self pity would leave me weak. I can’t be weak; it would jeopardize the remnants of my civilization. Too many people count in me to be strong. So the past will stay where it belongs… Dead and buried.
Kara Thrace
Battlestar Galactica
468 words
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