My name is my submission to male dominance
     I am somebody's daughter,
     somebody's wife.
I willingly call myself so
     It's because I love my father
     I love my husband
And I am honoured to be called
In his name
Usually

But sometimes
When a ray of anger rushes into my heart
By the feminine idea of self-respect
I wonder
     if my father loves me, why is his love trumping of my mother who bore me inside her body for months of restless ease?
     if my husband loves me, why has he never consider calling himself Mr. Mine, where he my husband and I his wife?

But I tuck these thoughts away
They are too balancing of power, too simply different.
I mustn't let the patriarchy hear, or I will dishonour my worth
As a woman.