Cece 1d

Bound by heavy chains,
placed in society with shackles
weighing downour wrists and ankles.

Forced to submit
to the word of ignorant, uneducated

Because we are "inferior."
But we are not.
We are worth twice,
no, triple the amount
they label us as.

Because we are "weaker."
But we are not.
We function at the highest level
even with their chains holding us down.

Because we are "unstable."
But we are not.
And they know that,
but they are not ready to admit
that a woman
can be held to the same level as them.

What we ask of them
that is most times classified
as "too much" to give.

Or they twist the word
to mean something completely different.
"Treat us like authority," they say,
"and maybe then we will treat you like humans."

They flaunt their power
while we
are bound by shackles.

And they think that
women are weak and submissive.
But together we are not.

And they will see our passion, our fire,
burn through the chains
they have placed
to bind us to their rules.

One day we will be free
from the shackles that hold us down.
And I hope that you,
whether you take this as a threat,
or you find this empowering,
know that too.

I wrote this during english class.

How big must my megaphone be
For you to hear me?

campbell Jan 12

I fight for my sisters
The ones whose own voice was ripped away

I fight for my daughters
The little girls who risk their lives for knowledge

I fight for my mothers
The women who gave up everything

I fight for my grandmothers
The ones who fought for me

Taylor Ott Jan 10

This is my favorite dress.
I bought it from a store I managed on Haight Street in San Francisco when I was 24.
It was a sample, one of a kind and I felt like a fairy in it.
It required no bra and I required no restrictions. We were a good match for each other.
Some might say it looks delicate as the lace flutters around my thighs, but, I know. This dress sat on sidewalks chain smoking cigarettes in the Castro. It danced in drug induced trances with new and old friends where we lived like sardines.
This dress moved to NEw York City with me and we endured cat-calls and harsh words. A casting director called me plain in this dress. He explained, to a room full of people, wasn’t it amazing how my talent shown so bright while I was so very plain. And as I walked along side Madison Square Park I saw myself shining in car reflections and my dress told me I was beautiful, and I knew it was right, and that man was insane.
In New Orleans I was invited to a party and I went because I didn’t know anyone. I was New. I wore my favorite dress and as I put it on I thought of the cold California beach breeze grazing my underwear throwing up my skirt, I thought of that mad man calling me plain, and I thought how scary it is to go to this party alone. I rode my bike in the humid air and I felt my pink slip clutch my waist. I felt safe. I sang a song out load. I felt like me. And when I got there you were there. You looked at me like I wasn’t just my dress or what was under it. You told me one truth and one lie and it made me smile. And now when I turn to my favorite dress like an old friend, for comfort or confidence, you are in its history too.

man once said to woman:
you fight like a girl
and she replied:
and you fight like a man
and he said:
that is because i am one
and she said:
and he looked confused
and she said:
i fight like a girl because i am one

Ansheeta S Jan 8

You are the flame
that keeps on burning
You are the flame
that helps
old woman to cook.
You are the flame
that rise from the lamp
and help poor kids to see
when they want to read.
You help people live
and keep them warm in the snow
You support them in dark.
Don’t underestimate the
little deeds you do;
no act of kindness is
ever wasted when
done with the heart true.

Brandi Jan 7

Destiny maketh me to lie down in sullied pastures
and shows me in an instant what is mine.
I am mother of my will, steward of my nature.
I embrace the children born of the seed of my misgivings.

Inherent nature calls for us to mourn
a child of woe, born in Eden's harem
she is wandering.  The taste of fruit still lingers
on her tongue as she is blessed, and passes through
the garden pleasure's widow.

So man may know the breadth of immorality
God hath given what I am to none but I.
And for you, oh child of nature,
naiveté of man, I will tell of all the
truths you've yet to know.

I am the sole proprietor of love's embittered light.
Suitor's move to choose me in a smooth unfettered sweep,
a lily plucked from dewy beds of beauty.

Among thieves I am the memory of prelapsarian song,
of how it was before we were the way we are.
The gaiety of goodness, weightlessness of night,
are wrought too plainly now to be mistaken...

those days are gone--and I,
an unlikely proctor for the movement of the age,
will stand alone.

Grace Jan 3

My vagina is tired.
Tired of having to explain why she wants to be left alone,
Tired of men thinking they are entitled to her simply because they buy her things,
Tired of women who shame and police her,
Tired of being commodified,
My vagina is just...tired.

My vagina does not owe anyone sex.
She will take up arms to protect her agency and have it recognised,
She will let whomever she chooses inside her,
She will most certainly not explain her decisions to a soul,
My vagina does not owe anyone sex.

My vagina will not alter herself for a man's pleasure.
She defines beauty and serves other worldly aesthetics,
She is a queen who possesses the ability to make you see God with her warmth,
My vagina will not alter herself for a man's pleasure.

Kathryn Jan 3

I want it.
We must.

For it all to succeed and flourish,
kindness, growth, progress,
the key?
That's where we come in.

The goddesses-
the mothers, the heroines, the geniuses, the politicians, the doctors, the sisters, the actors, the saviours-

The Females.

The stars of the show!
The ones to carry a being,
only for them to turn out to be ungrateful, disrespectful, abusers.
of what?

In response to the absolute legend Margaret Atwood, and her genius 'The Handmaid's Tale'.
Next page