[Y]oung Writers Project, an independent nonprofit based in Burlington, engages young people to write and use digital media to express themselves with clarity and power, and to gain confidence and skills for school, the workplace and life.
Check out the most recent issue of The Voice, Young Writers Project’s monthly digital magazine. Click here.
Each week, VTDigger features a writing submission – an essay, poem, fiction or nonfiction – accompanied by a photo or illustration from Young Writers Project. YWP publishes about 1,000 students’ work each year here, in newspapers across Vermont, on Vermont Public Radio and in YWP’s monthly digital magazine, The Voice. Since 2006, it has offered young people a place to write, share their photos, art, audio and video, and to explore and connect online at youngwritersproject.org. For more information, please contact Susan Reid at sreid@youngwritersproject.org.
Digital art by Lauren McCabe/YWP Media Library

“Buck up” and “boys don’t cry” are the lessons we’ve taught male children for centuries, yet only in recent years have we come to understand the severely negative impact such phrases can have on young men’s maturing personalities and mental wellbeing. Moretown writer Aurora Sharp, featured this week, delivers her own direct counter-message to each boy in her life: “You are the only one who can decide what makes you a man.”

A poem for the boys in my life

By Aurora Sharp, 16, of Moretown

You don’t have to hide inside yourself, hide your origami emotions 
like delicate paper folded into a vanishing point.
You don’t need to wear the mask of a superhero,
or walk in the lead-heavy shoes 
you have been told will make you a man.
They will say that “boys don’t cry” – 
or, no, they will imply it –  
through the stories infecting the television screen,
through the questions they ask you. 
But I have watched the pressure build in cork-stopped bottles,
and I know the way a smile can feel like an obligation.
You don’t need to feel ashamed for voicing your vulnerability;
there is only so much your lungs can hold.
A golden exterior may be cracked on the inside,
shining armor in a cage, but they will only say,
“Collect that sorrow in a jar. 
Bury it somewhere you won’t remember,
and if it breaks, let those shards be your daggers –
better to draw blood than let them see you bleed.”
They don’t tell you your tears are raindrops,
that you can let them tumble from your eyes 
and watch the flowers grow.
I can’t promise I understand it all,
but I can see the words they’ve tattooed you with,
the expectations you repeat back in your mind 
until you realize you are the one speaking them.
Please realize that it is okay to be the one who says no.
I wish we lived in a world that listened to who we are
instead of telling us, and I wish the world would understand
that my struggles need not compete with yours.
We are not enemies.
Don’t be afraid to express yourself freely.
Don’t be afraid of being afraid.
Don’t be afraid to step outside of the box they have made for you.
You are the only one who can decide what makes you a man.

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