Heroes (2012)
My hero is my mother
My hero is the woman who scurries out to buy milk past the nurse who told her not to leave the house
My hero is the yogi who devoted her life to unconditional love and takes happiness with her wherever she goes
My hero is the tall basketball player who takes street kids out to shoot hoops
My hero is Sylvia Plath who couldn’t connect to the world but spent her lifetime describing it
My hero is Steve Jobs an asshole with ambition and vision
My hero is Rinske Ginsberg who saw the fairies her father pointed out on the cherry blossom
My hero is the bogan at Woolworths (before she got racist)
My hero is the man who took the abuse and didn’t talk back
My hero is the student who stood in front of the tanks
My hero is the Vietnamese man who photographed the napalmed child
My hero is the daughter who cleaned the shit from the trousercuffs of her incontinent mother
My hero is the man who ran into the burning house
My hero is the black woman who sat on the bus wearing gloves and a nice hat and refused to stand up
My hero is the 13 year old boy who ran into a roomful of skinheads to defend the honour of his father
My hero is my best friend, who chased a gang of slappers down ruckers hill who’d stolen my handbag on the eve of my thirtieth birthday
My hero is the journalist who spent four months visiting a woman on the verge of losing her apartment drinking tea and talking about the price of electricity
My hero is Kon Karapanagiotidis, who opened the asylum seeker resource centre because he saw that it needed to be done
My hero is the barista who makes my coffee each morning and asks me “how are you” like he really means it
My hero is the Phd student who started the Ryan Gosling feminist blog
My hero is Malcolm Turnbull who gave up the Party Leadership because he saw that saving the planet was more important
My hero is the child who ran away
the woman who loved her body
the one who laughed the loudest
who hugged the hardest
who stopped the boat race
who felt the fear
who did it anyway.
My hero is my mother
My hero is the woman who scurries out to buy milk past the nurse who told her not to leave the house
My hero is the yogi who devoted her life to unconditional love and takes happiness with her wherever she goes
My hero is the tall basketball player who takes street kids out to shoot hoops
My hero is Sylvia Plath who couldn’t connect to the world but spent her lifetime describing it
My hero is Steve Jobs an asshole with ambition and vision
My hero is Rinske Ginsberg who saw the fairies her father pointed out on the cherry blossom
My hero is the bogan at Woolworths (before she got racist)
My hero is the man who took the abuse and didn’t talk back
My hero is the student who stood in front of the tanks
My hero is the Vietnamese man who photographed the napalmed child
My hero is the daughter who cleaned the shit from the trousercuffs of her incontinent mother
My hero is the man who ran into the burning house
My hero is the black woman who sat on the bus wearing gloves and a nice hat and refused to stand up
My hero is the 13 year old boy who ran into a roomful of skinheads to defend the honour of his father
My hero is my best friend, who chased a gang of slappers down ruckers hill who’d stolen my handbag on the eve of my thirtieth birthday
My hero is the journalist who spent four months visiting a woman on the verge of losing her apartment drinking tea and talking about the price of electricity
My hero is Kon Karapanagiotidis, who opened the asylum seeker resource centre because he saw that it needed to be done
My hero is the barista who makes my coffee each morning and asks me “how are you” like he really means it
My hero is the Phd student who started the Ryan Gosling feminist blog
My hero is Malcolm Turnbull who gave up the Party Leadership because he saw that saving the planet was more important
My hero is the child who ran away
the woman who loved her body
the one who laughed the loudest
who hugged the hardest
who stopped the boat race
who felt the fear
who did it anyway.