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firebirdiePoems
Why is the world like this? What did we do to deserve a lifetime of exits memorized, keys clenched like weapons, fear taught before freedom? We were told don’t walk alone. We were told don’t walk at night. We were told text me when you get home like home is a finish line and not a right. We were told keys between your fingers, eyes down, headphones out, pace quick enough to look busy not fast enough to look scared. We were told this is just how the world is. It’s not fair. We were told cover up. We were told we were distracting — in classrooms, in hallways, before we knew what the word meant. Shoulders censored. Skirts measured. Girls sent home while boys stayed seated, educated, uninterrupted. Funny how discipline always finds the same bodies. We were told boys will be boys like self-control is a myth and accountability is optional. But dogs can wait for a treat when they’re taught. So don’t tell us it’s biology. Tell us who you chose not to teach. Why are we policing girls instead of raising boys who know that no is not an invitation and bodies are not distractions? And why — why are children dressed like suggestions? Why are kindergartners sold crop tops, taught slogans they’re too young to understand, put into bikinis before they can spell the word sexualized? To be seen. To be judged. To be preyed upon. To teach predators where to look, to tell the world: here is permission. Who is that for? Because it was never us. We were told don’t smile too much. We were told don’t be rude, don’t be dramatic, don’t make a scene — even when the scene is making us. The world isn’t safe for females and they call that realism, call it statistics, call it being careful — as if fear is born in us, instead of installed. We were told the horror stories early, so early they blended into bedtime, tucked beside fairy tales like warning labels on our bodies. We were told trust carefully. We were told not all men — as if some is an acceptable risk, as if Russian roulette becomes fair when the chamber isn’t full. We were told to report it. Then we were told we didn’t look like victims. We were told trauma has a script — cry the right way, break at the right moments, remember everything but not too much. We were told his story was cleaner. We were told the case wasn’t strong enough. We were told it would ruin his future. We were told to think carefully before we spoke. We were told to trust the ones in charge — the uniforms, the titles, the familiar faces who promised protection. Funny how power always recognizes itself. We were told if it happened, it was our fault. We were told we provoked him, that fabric has intentions, that kindness is flirting, that silence is consent. We were told to rewind ourselves like crime scenes — what were you wearing, why were you there, why were you alone, why didn’t you fight harder, why didn’t you know better? Funny how no one asks why he felt entitled. Funny how responsibility always circles back to our bodies. We were told this is the price of being female. So no — we’re not going to be quieter. That never kept us safe anyway. We’re not going to dress like apologies or live like we’re asking permission to exist in public. You don’t get to call it "mistakes" and us to call it "lessons." You don’t get to say be careful when what you mean is be smaller. Funny how the rules are endless for us and optional for you. Funny how we’re blamed for provoking what was already waiting. So let’s be clear — it was never the night. Never the dress. Never the smile. If this makes you uncomfortable, imagine living in it.
0
Mar 30
Mar 30, 2026 at 7:48 PM UTC
we were told
Why is the world like this? What did we do to deserve a lifetime of exits memorized, keys clenched like weapons, fear taught before freedom? We were told don’t walk alone. We were told don’t walk at night. We were told text me when you get home like home is a finish line and not a right. We were told keys between your fingers, eyes down, headphones out, pace quick enough to look busy not fast enough to look scared. We were told this is just how the world is. It’s not fair. We were told cover up. We were told we were distracting — in classrooms, in hallways, before we knew what the word meant. Shoulders censored. Skirts measured. Girls sent home while boys stayed seated, educated, uninterrupted. Funny how discipline always finds the same bodies. We were told boys will be boys like self-control is a myth and accountability is optional. But dogs can wait for a treat when they’re taught. So don’t tell us it’s biology. Tell us who you chose not to teach. Why are we policing girls instead of raising boys who know that no is not an invitation and bodies are not distractions? And why — why are children dressed like suggestions? Why are kindergartners sold crop tops, taught slogans they’re too young to understand, put into bikinis before they can spell the word sexualized? To be seen. To be judged. To be preyed upon. To teach predators where to look, to tell the world: here is permission. Who is that for? Because it was never us. We were told don’t smile too much. We were told don’t be rude, don’t be dramatic, don’t make a scene — even when the scene is making us. The world isn’t safe for females and they call that realism, call it statistics, call it being careful — as if fear is born in us, instead of installed. We were told the horror stories early, so early they blended into bedtime, tucked beside fairy tales like warning labels on our bodies. We were told trust carefully. We were told not all men — as if some is an acceptable risk, as if Russian roulette becomes fair when the chamber isn’t full. We were told to report it. Then we were told we didn’t look like victims. We were told trauma has a script — cry the right way, break at the right moments, remember everything but not too much. We were told his story was cleaner. We were told the case wasn’t strong enough. We were told it would ruin his future. We were told to think carefully before we spoke. We were told to trust the ones in charge — the uniforms, the titles, the familiar faces who promised protection. Funny how power always recognizes itself. We were told if it happened, it was our fault. We were told we provoked him, that fabric has intentions, that kindness is flirting, that silence is consent. We were told to rewind ourselves like crime scenes — what were you wearing, why were you there, why were you alone, why didn’t you fight harder, why didn’t you know better? Funny how no one asks why he felt entitled. Funny how responsibility always circles back to our bodies. We were told this is the price of being female. So no — we’re not going to be quieter. That never kept us safe anyway. We’re not going to dress like apologies or live like we’re asking permission to exist in public. You don’t get to call it "mistakes" and us to call it "lessons." You don’t get to say be careful when what you mean is be smaller. Funny how the rules are endless for us and optional for you. Funny how we’re blamed for provoking what was already waiting. So let’s be clear — it was never the night. Never the dress. Never the smile. If this makes you uncomfortable, imagine living in it.
This is everything we were taught to accept—and everything we shouldn’t have had to.
#feminism#gender#society#injustice#anger#truth#voice
firebirdie
Written by
firebirdie
15
Mar 30
Mar 30, 2026 at 7:48 PM UTC
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