When I was in 4th grade
I first heard the concept
of a “dumb blonde”
When yo mama jokes
turned to unrelenting stereotypes
and constricted narratives
Suddenly it seemed to become
accepted
that the colour of your hair
could somehow determine your IQ
That your appearance
could somehow reflect
what was inside
And I wondered
what ever happened
to “don’t judge a book by its cover”
And over the years
despite countless campaigns
to get rid of boxes
and labels
and definitions
It has always been
embedded in my mind
that smart girls can’t be pretty
and pretty girls can’t be smart
It’s been drilled into our consciousness
from the very start
from our fairy tales
stories about stepsisters
with beautiful and fair a face
but vile and black a heart
to our sitcoms
to our ugly Betty’s
with dazzling intelligence
but the forbidden combination
of plastic specs
and metal braces
Go ahead
Launch your crusades
Tell me
that no-one can be judged
because they fit a stereotype
Tell me
that the pretty girl sitting at Starbucks
won’t be classified as ditzy
and the smart girl you met online
won’t be stamped as a loser
in glasses and sweats
But don’t think for a second
that we’ll all abandon instinct
and instantly believe you
Because even now
I see
the dichotomy
between surface
and substance
beauty
and brains
and I wonder
why
the two can’t
coexist
