The haunting question had returned to Esperanza's mind when she started scrolling after lunch. Sophia had posted again, this time with a scripture.
Acts 26:14 "And when we were all fallen to the earth, I heard a voice speaking unto me in the Hebrew tongue, Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me? It is hard for thee to kick against the pricks."
Below the scripture was a song that she knew well, for it had been her anthem as a teenager: "Just a Girl" by No Doubt. In any other context, seeing Sophia post this song would have made her proud, but now she was uneasy. Was this a moment of mother-daughter solidarity, or was the stage being set for a rebuke?
Took this pink ribbon off my eyes / I'm exposed, and it's no big surprise / Don't you think I know exactly where I stand? / This world is forcing me to hold your hand
'Cause I'm just a girl, oh little old me / Well, don't let me out of your sight / Oh, I'm just a girl, all pretty and petite / So don't let me have any rights / Oh, I've had it up to here
The moment that I step outside / So many reasons for me to run and hide / I can't do the little things I hold so dear / 'Cause it's all those little things that I fear
Oh, I'm just a girl; I'd rather not be / 'Cause they won't let me drive late at night / Oh, I'm just a girl; guess I'm some kind of freak / 'Cause they all sit and stare with their eyes / Oh, I'm just a girl, take a good look at me / Just your typical prototype / Oh, I've had it up to here / Oh, am I making myself clear?
I'm just a girl / I'm just a girl in the world / That's all that you'll let me be
Oh, I'm just a girl, living in captivity / Your rule of thumb makes me worrisome / Oh, I'm just a girl; what's my destiny? / What I've succumbed to is making me numb
Oh, I'm just a girl, my apologies / What I've become is so burdensome / Oh, I'm just a girl, lucky me / Tweedle-dum, there's no comparison
Oh, I've had it up to / Oh, I've had it up to / Oh, I've had it up to...here
Ohh, the difference that context could make! That which had sounded so righteous in her youth and inside her own head now sounded so petty coming from outside, framed with the perspective of someone who had watched the whole thing with folded arms and a long-suffering sigh. How had she missed the churlish self-pity in Gwen Stefani's tone? The answer presented itself, unbidden and unwelcome, like a bitter pill.
Because it was just as much your own as it was hers.
The wobbly note at the end, which had previously conveyed gravity and emphasis, now sounded cartoonish, like the wobbling of a paddle that has just been used to spank an ornery child.