internal insurgency

She sat mindlessly stroking the doll's hair. A frozen grimace attempted to pass for joy. Her father's voice repeated in her mind the demand that she be grateful for her gifts. Baby Brother Brat was setting up his railroad. He was doing it wrong! Everytime she tried to help, "Let him alone. He can do it.", and the doll was thrust back in to her hands.

She hated that doll. She hated all dolls. What she wanted was a stuff animal. Why didn't anyone ever listen to her? The one at the zoo that her mother refused to buy her then. That was what she wanted. A tiger with fierce but playful eyes. Something strong. This stupid toy pooped its pants! The doll took flight across the room, and she stomped upstairs. Her grandmother saying just within earshot, "Ungrateful." One more word to add to the list of adjectives: bossy, stubborn, difficult, and ungrateful. By year's end she probably would be able to get a few more added. These words were badges to her. Her family, peers, and teachers all tried to bend her and mold her to some unexplainable and ill-fitting shape. These words marked her resistance.

I have had those words applied to me as well as smartass, bitch, and feminazi. People are so nice.