Four Skinny Trees

Back in undergrad I had my first exposure to Women's Studies curriculum. I mean, it made sense...I was attending a college primarily for women ("and a few good men" as they would say). I took a class titled Women, Images and Perspectives, a sophomore level class and I will forever be grateful to Dr. Vivian May. She was an amazing professor. Dr. May made us read The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros. This particular piece of prose, Four Skinny Trees had a profound effect on me. So, I'm going to tell you what I means to me. My words will be in brackets.

They are the only ones who understand me. I am the only one who understands them. [People are selfish and never listen long enough to find out or try to understand me. But i get it. No one listens to them either. You are there for the single purpose to serve others, but no one sees your value] Four skinny trees with skinny necks and pointy elbows like mine. [Trees, who do not take up much space and no one makes space for] Four who do not belong here but are here. [These trees didn't have a choice about where they were planted or the cards they are dealt.] Four raggedy excuses planted by the city. From our room we can hear them, but Nenny just sleeps and doesn’t appreciate these things. [My sister, although we sleep in the same room, cannot understand the gift these trees actually represent. Everyday nature, and these trees specifically teach lessons each day. But, we are just deaf or asleep and do not pay attention to their lessons.] Their strength is their secret. They send ferocious roots beneath the ground. They grow up and they grow down and grab the earth between their hairy toes and bite the sky with violent teeth and never quit their anger. [Although unassuming, they posses an inner strength that is hidden from everyone else. They have the strength of survival. They fight with all the vigor and tenacity of a prize fighter to ensure their survival. This is how they keep. Let one forget his reason for being, they’d all droop like tulips in a glass, each with their arms around the other. Keep, keep, keep, trees say when I sleep. They teach. [They never forget the importance of people in your corner. Those cheerleaders in the world who remind you who you are and repeat your importance back to you like a broken record. When I am too sad and too skinny to keep keeping, when I am a tiny thing against so many bricks, then it is I look at trees. [When life is just too much, I look outside at these trees. These things who no one cares about but keeps fighting and keeps surviving.] When there is nothing left to look at on this street. Four who grew despite concrete. Four who reach and do not forget to reach. Four whose only reason is to be and be. [There is something for you to do... there is a reason why you're here. You must survive. You must be.]

Ms. Cisneros - Thank you for being a tulip in my glass.

Cisneros, S. (1984). “Four Skinny Trees.” The House on Mango Street. New York: Vintage Books, pp. 74-75.