Feathers

A little girl wanted to fly.

So she began collecting feathers she found on the ground, sewing them together to make wings.

Her mother saw her sewing.

“You are not beautiful enough to fly.”

She spent the next few years looking for beautiful feathers, sewing them together to make wings.

A young man saw her sewing.

“You do not follow the right rules for creating wings. You will not be able to fly.”

She spent the next few years learning the rules, gathering the correct feathers for flying.

A preacher saw her gathering.

“Your feathers are too wild and colorful. They will distract others from wanting to fly.”

She spent the next few years tearing apart her colorful wings, collecting drab and gray feathers, tying them together to make different wings.

A man saw her tying.

“Your body is too bold. It will not support the wings. You will not be able to fly.”

She spent the next few years battling her body, shrinking it so she could support the drab and gray feathers.

A woman saw her battling.

“Your mind is too loud. No one will want to see you fly if you speak too much.”

She spent the next few years hiding her mind, covering her body with many many gray and drab feathers.

A group saw her hiding.

“We don’t like your feathers.”

She sat while they ripped and pulled and plucked and stretched and stripped every feather from her body.

Naked, she wept. She would never fly.

Then, a feather floated down from the sky, past her face, and gently landed on the dirt.

She looked up.

Many women were flying. Many men were flying. But they had no feathers, no wings. A woman landed, saw her weeping.

“It is when you let go of everyone’s idea of feathers and wings and flying and become free that you can really soar.”

The girl realized why she had been able to collect so many feathers. As men and women became free, the feathers fell to the ground. All kinds, all tribes.

She could be wild.

She could be bold.

She could think loudly.

She was free.

She lifted her arms and reached.

She could fly.