Under The Influence

I grew up being the the kind of influence other people wanted me to be.

When you are raised in and by the church, it’s difficult to find your own identity. And so for years, I was the good influence.

I knew my place. I knew I could use my voice, but not too loud. I knew I could have an opinion as long as it aligned with the church opinion. I knew I could not dress provocatively because If you can’t wear it to church, you can’t wear it all. I knew I couldn’t cuss because that’s not ladylike and not a good representation of God. I knew my body was a temple and I could not deface it with piercings and tattoos. I knew I could marry, but not divorce. I knew engaging in any sexual acts would lead to shame, unless, of course, I was married. I knew I could have dreams, as long as those dreams consisted of having children and being a homemaker. And I lived by all of that for the better part of my life. I lived to set a good example for the youngsters looking up to me.

There were many circumstances that changed my perception of who I was supposed to be and what constituted as good, but it was my son who really forced me to check my influence.

Could I raise a child under constant scrutiny? Under insane biblical laws that the church takes out of context, that no child can abide by? Under constant pressure to be biblically good, and then when he’s not, slather on the guilt? I couldn’t.

So that’s why I decided to be a bad influence. I threw out the laws, and replaced them with acceptance and made kindness king. I buried the idea that you can’t express yourself, and replaced it with hair dye, tattoos and piercings. I burned the rules on what a good girl should say and think, and replaced them with books about sex and feminism and misogynistic systems, and being loud about politics, and screaming shit hell ass damn fuck until I lost my breath.

I want my son to say I was one of the most influential people in his life, and that influence is what made him a man who speaks out against injustice, a man of honor, of kindness, of individuality.

I don’t want to come to the end of my life and find that people called me a good influence. I want people to say I stirred the pot, that what I stood for made them question their own beliefs, that I was challenging, I refused to stay quiet, I was difficult, because now I know that those things are not bad.

And when they lower me into the dirt, I want Fuck The Police blasting across the crowd, because even after death, I want to live up to my bad influence title.