Queer theory: according to my grandmother

Queer theory: according to my grandmother

by Richard Blanco

Never drink soda with a straw-
milk shakes? Maybe.
Stop eyeing your mother’s Avon catalog,
and the men’s underwear in those Sears flyers.
I’ve seen you…
Stay out of her Tupperware parties
and perfume bottles – don’t let her kiss you,
she kisses you much too much.
Avoid hugging men, but if you must,
pat them real hard
on the back, even
if it’s your father.
Must you keep that cat? Don’t pet him so much,
Why don’t you like dogs?
Never play house, even if you’re the husband.
Quit hanging out with that Henry kid, he’s too pale,
and I don’t care what you call them
those GI Joes of his
are dolls.
Don’t draw rainbows or flowers or sunsets.
I’ve seen you…
Don’t draw at all – no coloring books either.
Put away your crayons, your Play-Doh, your Legos.
Where are you hot Wheels, 
your laser gun and handcuffs,
the knives I gave you?
Never fly a kite or roller skate, but light
all the firecrackers you want,
kill all the lizards you can, cut up worms – 
feed them to that cat of yours.
Don’t sit Indian style with your legs crossed – 
you’re no Indian.
Stop click-clacking your sandals-
you’re no girl.
For God’s sake, never pee sitting down.
I’ve seen you…
Never take a bubble bath or wash your hair
with shampoo – shampoo is for women.
So is conditioner.
So is mousse.
So is hand lotion.
Never file your nails or blow-dry your hair -
go to the barber ship with your grandfather –
you’re not unisex.
Stay out of the kitchen.  Men don’t cook – 
they eat. Eat anything you want, except:
deviled eggs
Blow Pops
croissants (Bagels? Maybe.)
cucumber sandwiches
petit fours
Don’t watch Bewitched or I Dream of Jeannie.
Don’t stare at The Six-Million Dollar Man.
I’ve seen you…
Never dance alone in your room:
Donna Summer, Barry Manilow, the Captain
and Tennille, Bette Midler, and all musicals – 
forbidden.
Posters of kittens, Star Wars, or the Eiffel Tower – 
forbidden.
Those fancy books on architecture and art – 
I threw them in the trash.
You can’t wear cologne or puka shells
and I better not catch you in clogs.
If I see you in a ponytail – I’ll cut if off.
What? No, you can’t pierce your ear,
left or right side – 
I don’t care – 
you will not look like a goddamn queer
I’ve seen you…
even if you are one.