In society,
Women are always told they are too much.
Too angry, too calm
Too quiet, too loud
Too big, too small
And we are all of these things
We are angry.
Angry about the internalized oppression that still flows on a day to day basis. We are angry about our predefined roles of what girl is, what girl should be.
And we are too calm.
Calm about the man that called you a name in the street and all you wanted to do was cry
Or the teacher that told you you couldn't do what you wanted because it was a mans place, not a woman's
You should have yelled, but you didn't. Because we are too calm.
We are too quiet.
We are silenced.
Our opinions are ranked of worthiness by our physical features, our body types. Our intelligence is last to our ****** appeal. We can not be heard through the babble of social media judging and critiquing and pointing out our flaws. So we are quiet.
And we are loud.
We have the ability to speak for the world. To weave the revolution out of the words of women. We have the voice to speak to our sisters globally, teach women that we are loud. We can drown out prejudice with the power of voice and bring down the barrier of how a girl should be.
We are small.
Told that our personalities are preset by the gender normalities that the patriarchy has placed, we are shrunk to fit our predefined roles. They cut us into shapes so we can not realize that we are so much bigger.
Because we are big.
We are huge. We have global impact. While we are cut down, I would like to see us glue each other back together. I want to see women take back our voices. I want to hear women all over the world speak how they feel, bust through the barriers of what the patriarchy has told them. Fight back against their rapists, abusers, silencers. When someone tells you that you are being too much, say "I am. And I am becoming so much more."

you call her a ****,
you call her a *****,
you tear her skin into tiny shreds
and then beg for more,
your masculinity is fuelled by the sexuality you stripped her of.
she has no right to be liberated in your eyes,
but your eyes also want to see what is in between her thighs,
your respect for her body only exists as long as she is your possession.

a woman is to you what a table is to a person;
something to use,
sometimes a burden.
a woman can't be outspoken without being a *****,
but if she's quiet you treat her like ****,
you tell us to fight for what we believe in,
but when we do you tell us we're complaining,
(maybe you think I'm complaining)
while you're thinking about that
please mind the wage gap,
yes the wage gap MORE THINGS TO COMPLAIN ABOUT!
I get 75 pence for every pound a man makes,
maybe I'm making mistakes?
no, no I am not.
perhaps some people have forgot
that someone's *** doesn't make them under qualified,
I think your brain is nonaligned,  
because right now in two thousand and sixteen a woman should be respected even if she isn't the ******* queen.

I hope you can see what struggles women endure,
we may as well go back years and years and knit at home while you go to war.

I'll just be over here cleaning the entire house,
oh and while I'm at it I'll clean that glass ceiling while waiting for my husband and feeding my offspring
because that's all a woman does right?
cook clean and nurture, and give yourself to your husband at night
God forbid you swing the other way!
single, or worse...
no kids and gay!

women have to fit into perfect cookie cutters.
that, and a size 6
but not too skinny though, men aren't nutters!
big *****, big *** and a small waist
your extra few inches of skin can be erased with diet pills, exercise plans and corsets!
if not, you can choose the forfeit,
of society telling you that you can achieve your dream beach body,
to catch the attention of somebody
preferably a man who can be the bread winner,
while we can stay at home, look after his kids and cook his dinner.

I'll stop complaining now and go back to concealing my blemishes and under eye bags,
while you talk to your friend about how we are still just slags.

~T.T

it’s like my body is a roller coaster
there
for anyones pleasure
what goes up
must come down
so enter me without any thought
until the ride is over and you can walk
away
power and strength all in your possession
and i am left with
nothing

because who wants to thank me
for the acceleration
the quickening of breath
the energy
the never ending rush of excitement

who wants to spend a few extra minutes on this roller coaster
smiling
with thankful eyes
maybe returning the favor?
oiling my gears and making me
sigh with pleasure
rather than
squeaking with pain?

but that is to much to ask

once you’ve reached the end,
and what was once up is now down,
and your heart is slowing its pace

you can go find another ride
another roller coaster
that will take you for a few spins
for a few minutes of satisfaction
until it is over and you’re tired

and i’m tired

but who cares
because the next ride starts now
and what goes up
must come down

Don't speak
We are silenced
We are shutdown
We are *crazy

Why?

Is it so impossible?
Is power really unattainable?
Is a voice that repulsive?

The rules aren't the same
Expression must be stifled
Love must be dimmed

Our thoughts, our hopes, our wants
They just aren't valid

**Are they?

A man blamed,
A man feared,
A male struggle.

You give her a compliment,
She blames you for objectifying her.
You give the promotion to a better contender,
She accuses you of ****** harassment.
She gets vindictive.

She wears skimpy clothing,
It's hard not to notice,
Two seconds later,
You're labeled a pervert.

You want to provide,
So her nails are always polished,
She calls you a sexist,
All you had done was make her your queen.

So what is so wrong about being a man?
Nothing.
Why are you blamed for things never done?
Unknown.

Everyone speaks of the female unfairness,
Yet no one remembers the male sacrifice.

That women too exploit the male gender,
All so they can move up a ladder.
A sense of entitlement,
A pity self secured,
Used as excuses,
In everyday life.

Why is it okay for her to objectify you,
But she gets cradled in sympathy when you give a compliment?

Why is it okay for her to ask you to cook,
But sexist if you ask her for a meal?

Why should you always pay the check if she claims to be so independent then?

Why is there such a defined double standard?

I am a woman,
To empower man.

-Kathia Mariana Landeros

Its funny,
you calling me
“good girl.”

Hands running
down my thighs
and
your lips
leaving saliva,
sticky little white lies.

My back arched
and my eyes closed,
pretending.

I’m this
******
up
feminist.

But tell me,
what to do
when you assume
because we kiss
your hands
have any place
on MY body.

And tell me how,
you wish
for me
to be
your'
“good girl”
when you have yet
to ask
if it’s okay
that you are already
sticking your fingers
inside of me.

Was that little six year old girl walking home from her bus stop ready to tell her mother about her first day of school asking for it?

Was the teenage girl asking for it by walking to the restroom?

What about a mother? Was she asking for it by making a trip to the grocery store?

As she dusted off her weakened knees, ripping shards of ****** glass from her feet. Scraping and ripping off the lies and deceit. Never cowering or giving into defeat. Treated as a peasant, but born to be seen. A weak person's worst nightmare, but a destined strong person's dream. She was full of strength, but pulled and hidden from her light. But the darkness couldn't shake away where she was most bright. She roared like a lioness, breaking out of her cage, using her pain and using her rage. Using her power that fit like a glove. But soft and so graceful, as sweet as a dove. She ran from the violence and skipped through the mud. No longer swallowing the hand fed fake love. She ripped off the chains and the tape from her mouth. She broke all the shackles, and she busted out. She healed all her wounds, and broken bones on her own, she built her own castle, she crafted her throne. She rose from the ashes, a crown upon her head. Saving her soul from its pre made death bed. She took back her freedom and fought for her life. She gave her heart rest and in turn a new sight. She'd chose herself, and she chose what was right. She protected her soul and she saved her own life. She had no idea but to the world they see... a leader, a survivor, a warrior, a queen.

I'm a person;
I am not a meal to be devoured yet they say that real girls have a bit of meat on their bones.
I'm a person;
they may tell me that wearing make up is false advertising but I am not a product to be sold and I am not theirs to own.
I'm a person;
and no matter how many times they whistle at me in the street, I am not a dog who's going to go running to them.
I'm a person;
I am not an object for them to touch, use or abuse whenever they wish to; that behaviour I abhor and condemn.
I'm a person
with as much talent and intelligence as them but I am held back by the glass ceiling in my endeavours.
I'm a person
and I'm determined to reach my goals - I will not be held back by my oppressors.