Avital Horowitz - Week 9 - "Remember the Boys" by Rachel McKibbens

"Remember the Boys",  a poem written by Rachel McKibbens, holds the message of fear of boys and yearning to have the same power as a boy. The structure of this poem was used to show the cause and effect of the situation McKibbens faced. Her interaction with boys treating her badly made her fear them, ultimately causing her to wishing she was a boy, so she would not have to be afraid of them.

The first part of McKibbens's poem focuses on her poor interactions with boys. She starts by giving some background of how boys have treated her in her life. She goes on to describe how boys are never, as she says, "held down" and put in their place for their reckless behavior. McKibbens gives an example of the boys' poorness towards her when she compares them to knives being stabbed in her breast; "Little Bretts. Little Jeffs. Little knives to my breast the comparison of boys to knives to my breast" (lines 5-6). This comparison serves the purpose of explaining the pain boys have caused McKibbens. She explains that the boys' actions have caused her pain so immense that it felt like she was being stabbed.

The second part of McKibbens's poem is about how much she wished she was a boy. She gave examples of how boys acted and wished she could do the same as them, so she would not have to be the victim in their recklessness. She creates a metaphor that called boys the country's golden terror. I believe that the meaning behind this metaphor was that a boy can be so scary to a girl that it feels like they can be a villian in their eyes.

I personally enjoyed this poem a lot. It felt very real and open and I really appreciated how honest the poet was when explaining how she felt. 

Remember the Boys
Rachel McKibbens

chucking rocks at the wasps’ nest,
their gathered hum then sudden sting
at the nape of my neck. Oh, how I paid—
still pay—for the recklessness
of boys. Little Bretts. Little Jeffs.
Little knives to my breast. 
How lucky they were to never 
be held down, to never see
their voices crawl the air like fire!

How desperately I yearned to be them,
to storm the halls in macho gospel:
matching blue jackets, blood-filled
posture and made-you-flinch. 
How different would I be, 
how much bigger, if I had been
given room enough to be 
a country's golden terror? 



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