My last poem is one that is for my mom.
There are a lot of people who talk about young women,
and talk about the lives of women,
and they shouldn't even get a vote.
[LAUGHTER]
This is called, "Parenthood, Unplanned."
Yeah, I was the child of children.
Spectac-- well, we'll get to that.
"Parenthood, Unplanned."
When a jasmine scented teenager--
not yet my mother--
came up pregnant with me, my father stepped up.
They did what teenagers did in 1951.
Married.
Mismatched spectacularly-- 15 years of yelling and beer.
Four kids and two miscarriages before she turned 24.
No education past high school.
So after the divorce, crap jobs, crappier men,
government cheese, no sleep.
Haunted, her eyes.
There are men making decisions right now
about lives of girls and women.
Some do not want children to know how their bodies work.
Some do not trust women to make decisions.
As if women were people, as if women
know what's best for their lives,
for the lives of their children.
That broken teen who carried me, who pushed me out
into this world, that brilliant ragged girl died young,
worn down in her thirties.
One small life, I know.
The only life she had.
I speak for her when I say let women live.
Let women be.
Thank you for sharing this time.
[APPLAUSE]