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.