How to Build a Mannequin

By Evan Wang, 14, Pennsylvania

there are millions of us…

they’ve all told me to 

follow the path of my brothers, sisters, cousins. 

carved into my mind that if I were to succeed, 

I needed to mimic what they achieved. 

said it so sincerely as if I had no potential 

to walk the road less taken. 

they’ve convinced me 

that I was just another lifeless nothing 

without heart or mind. 

needing guidance to live the life 

that I had already memorized.

the words spoken, which fly towards me, 

sound like rule manuals with step-by-step instructions 

on how to build a mannequin, 

the one all art teachers have, 

the one that gets altered in all different positions 

for people to study and observe.

jot down notes and hope I’ll be preserved 

until the next class. 

I will be a model figurine of time 

for future generations to examine. 

recipe for success. build a perfect child. 

because I am wooden, can’t talk back. 

I am palatable, malleable, 

can be twisted and manipulated. 

I am an artist’s doll, built to have nothing at all. 

maybe that’s how all my older brothers and sisters 

were taught to be. 

they became still, silent, fire winked out, 

limbs became trees, statue of liberty’s opposite, 

dreams at the chopping block. 

a toxic tradition, slapping our mouths shut 

until a conscience finally comes to visit once 18 arrives.

to them, with age comes power, but we aren’t timeless. 

the chain that locked us up in characters 

we were never meant to portray 

is molded into our skin and our children will inherit 

the cause, not the illness. 

they will inherit the pressure, the competition, 

the deadly decision to be the king of the hill. 

so i will be the starfish in a sea of stars. 

speak up and be called a rebel. 

silenced but I will still sing. 

try with clenched fists to break chains 

that climb out the abyss. 

pull every trauma out the drain, 

fish hook stuck in everyone. 

and maybe finally, they will realize 

that their visions of me were all wrong, 

that they needed to appreciate 

what is set in front of their eyes 

instead of being so quick to compare and change, 

to ask for more, more, and please more, 

to make us feel like we’re never enough, 

to weigh us down, heavy, heavy—heavy—heavy, 

to break the mannequin by twisting its limbs, 

to sigh once they realize, 

this figure won’t be the inspiration for a masterpiece.

---

I was inspired by the Asian culture while writing this poem. Growing up, being compared to children I’ve never even met is a common occurrence. It’s an internal competition between all of us. Who can climb the highest? Who will become the king of the hill? It is very toxic and yet many of us still try our best to play the game.

Instagram: @sincerelyevan_

Photo by Trollinho