I wrote this in August of 2007. Wildly prophetic.
And we danced
We danced for the sheer joy of it. We danced solo, in couples and in groups. We danced under the full moon, we danced because it was Wednesday. We danced because we could, we were un fettered and free. We danced because our Grandfathers fought for our right to dance. We were happy.
Soon the puppet master came. At first he tried to tell us whom we could dance with. We obliged. We weren't happy but we did as we were told. Then the puppet master decided we should have strings attached. Strings on our arms and legs, strings on our heads. Some of us decided that we weren't going to dance for the puppet master, we decided that the strings were binding. So we danced in secret. We still danced together, but we were selective. We privately danced in couples, solo and in groups.
The puppet master soon found out and made it so even our private time had strings attached. We were sad. We couldn't dance any longer for the sheer joy of it. We couldn't choose our partners or groups. We couldn't dance the way our Granfathers hoped. Some of us chose to capitulate to the puppet master, tell him what he wanted to hear, so we could still dance. Others gave up dancing all together, the puppet master wasn't going to tell them what to do.
Our troupe faltered, we became discordant, the puppet master pulled our strings willy nilly, we could no longer dance together. We were sad.Then a revelation, one dancer decided that she would just cut the strings and dance to the beat of her own drummer, her Grandfather fought for her right to dance, she had a strong group of friends, and quite frankly decided that the puppet master could kiss the fattest part of her ass. Now she's out there, totally alone, dancing under the full moon, dancing with her friends and loving it. Life was good again. She wants the puppet master to know that she'll be a stone in his shoe. Everytime he tries to orchestrate the group or make them dance to his tune she'll be there. She'll cause pain, she'll make the puppet master wonder how he'll ever get rid of her. Oh, she might go, but it won't be quietly. No sir, she'll be outside dancing to the tune of her own music, directed only by her inner drummer, not by some Johnny come lately puppet master.