My mother would never describe herself as an activist,
But I do.
She never allowed Nestle in the house,
She vetoed Carl’s Jr on every road trip,
And never participated in Black Friday.
My mother was an activist, in her way.
With three kids to raise, a husband, and a job to juggle,
She protested with her purse,
Refusing to support those who didn’t support others.
Not for all the “But Mom”s in the universe.
“But Mom, strawberry milk!”
But honey, those babies.
“But Mom, criss cut fries!”
But honey, women’s rights.
“But Mom, I want to see a movie!”
But honey, those workers.
That was how she showed her values.
Pocketbook protest, economic Evangelism.
She claims to not know where I get it from.
But I know I get it from her.
I know where we get it from too,
I’ve been studying the branches.
Our Family Tree tells me
of a woman named Belle who stood up for others.
She fought for benefits she would not reap.
She planted seeds and we get to bloom.
Pretty Good Ugly 