ENVIRONMENTAL Poem: Inherited Expectations, by Paige Johns

Little boys in the basement,
getting up to old tricks
for the first time in their lives —
mischief passed down through mantras:
“boys will be boys.”

Small girls with plastic kitchen sets,
motherly instincts cooked too young.
Taught to care for others
before their own lives have begun.

Children playing in the dirt,
rambunctious nature takes hold.
Mother Earth cares not for gender —
if only society were so bold.

Middle school mustaches,
croaks in their throats.
Teasing the girls in their grade
while preening like showboats.

Young girls shrinking in their skin,
the moment they’re seen.
School rules changing
as playmates turn mean.

Teenagers are talking now,
noticing the world’s too late.
Caretakers by conditioning,
in a world fueled by hate.

Young men stay silent,
masking what’s true.
Taught that strong means quiet —
and it’ll kill them too.

Young women get louder,
their anger well deserved.
Realizing they were raised to serve —
to husbands, to jobs, to kids unheard.

And the new generation stands lost,
aware but unsure what to do.
Repeating a cycle of damage
as if the next batch of children
will fix what was passed to you.