Stripping You of Your Privilege
YOU!

Tall and lean and impossibly handsome
and Corporate

In your magnificent pinstriped business suit
and perfectly tied silk tie
and your hundred dollar haircut
your privileged male feet hidden
inside impeccably polished black
English dress shoes

Staring at me through your
designer sunglasses

Haughty, confident, insolent
Stepping out of your Porsche
before you enter your office building

So smooth, clean, assured and perfect
Maybe you are 35 years old, maybe 40
the world is yours


Transformation
I have news for you
The tables are turned

YOU have been the one in power.
The one in control.
So proud, so arrogant, so confident

Starting at me, a total stranger
Just part of your usual day
I am just an object to you
I am an OBJECT to you!

Your beautiful smooth shaven
face turns...
but wait...

Wait! No more

NO MORE!

The world has turned upside
down

Now YOU are the OBJECT

I have the POWER to make things happen

NOW LISTEN TO ME

You have a new future

LISTEN. OBEY
Quit your important executive job
Leave your successful corporate career

That's right – now
QUIT!
Call from your Iphone
Don't enter the
building
Tell them you’re quitting

You are stunned and repelled and horrified
You resist and argue
You refuse and try to leave
Your pride and anger rise
But there is no escaping your destiny

Your power is gone
You are helpless to resist

Forget your MBA
Forget you ever went to a university
Slide the business school ring off your
long male finger

Give me the keys to that Porsche
And take your Rolex,
your gold wristwatch,
off your
wrist
You won't be needing a watch
I will tell you the time
We will sell your watch

Get those fancy, expensive,
polished handmade shoes off
Your pampered, privileged male feet
Yes, your black dress socks too

YOU, barefoot on the sidewalk!

Leave the shoes right there on the
sidewalk, in front of your former
office building, shining in the sun.
Empty and crying for their former owner
Put your expensive socks inside the shoes
and drop the briefcase too

Now get back into the Porsche
you used to own
Yes, in your bare feet
Your naked size tens
No - NOT the driver's seat
Get in the passenger side
I am driving

I'm taking you to your own home
as my Trophy

How many times
have you
had a woman in your passenger seat?
You behind the wheel,
smiling your proud smile
your perfect white teeth gleaming
Straightening your necktie as
your bragged about your corporate successes
You and your car the proud conquerors
Your handmade black leather shoes pressing the pedal
of male power and privilege

Now you - just a passenger!
along for the ride in your own car
the rich carpet of your Porsche
under the smooth soles of your naked privileged feet

We will marry
and you will clean and cook and look very beautiful

Now your LIFE LESSONS:
Dumb down your smug, expensively high-class male executive
SPEECH.
More slang. Much less education in your voice
Don’t talk – just listen to ME

And you have to wipe off
That arrogant male grin
like you own the world.

Destroy that haughty attitude
of conquest - so much a part of you until today

Replace it with humble respect
And attitude of submission and obedience

Give me those sunglasses
You can't wear them anymore
Look at me
with submissive adoration in your clear, blue
Male eyes

No need to make decisions now
I will take care of that

I will **** your ambition
Your self-assertion
Your independent thinking

We'll take apart your self-confidence
and throw the pieces in the trash
All of your initiative and desire to succeed
will be replaced
by the desire to make me happy

I will change your prestigious upper class name
You will take MY last name now
Your identity will disappear
What is your first name? William?
You are Billy boy from now

Your male executive image and power clothes
No longer have
Any place
In your new existence
We'll pick up some nice tight cheap jeans and
some nice tight undershirts for your
new look - the one I choose
Show off your *** and your arms

I want you tougher, grizzled
Blue collarized
Working class male
You’re too clean, too smooth, too perfect
We’ll fix that...

And your clean-cut corporate haircut is
now forbidden
I hate it. Too perfect

Grow out your golden brown hair into
A scraggly ponytail
a beard too...
Put some dirt under those clean fingernails
Calluses on those smooth clean palms
An earring in your male ear

And no more SUITS!
I hate suits
symbols of white male power and authority
and no more ties
******* symbols of oppression
your neck and long male
throat will be open and exposed
for the world to see

No, that pinstriped suit you're wearing
that you had made for yourself in London
and the silk tie
and the starched white shirt
will all be sold to a second hand clothing shop

The monograms taken off your
cufflinks before they are sold
Your golf clubs – sold
Your tennis rackets and
sports equipment - sold

Your credit cards in my name
Your condo is now ours
Your Porsche is now mine
You will drive my beat-up old Ford

All of your fancy clothes will be sold off
That will be tomorrow



You're gonne be barefoot in my kitchen
You won't be needing shoes anymore
on your privileged, pampered male feet
rather bitter but intended as humor too

" I just felt the need to tell you
you're beautiful."
Why did you feel that need?
Do I strike you as someone who doesn't know,
who isn't told often,
who is looking for your attention?
Did you need to force me to pay attention to your energy?
Did I invite your attention by entering your visual space?
Was I asking for it?

"Your boyfriend,
you probably have one of those,
is a very lucky man.
You're gorgeous."
Is that so?
I don't have one.
Haven't in years.
Why didn't you ask my name
my occupation
my dreams?

"You're very attractive.
You probably have a great man in your life."
I don't.
No man.
Great or otherwise.
If I were ugly would I be less deserving of great?
What would you say makes a great man?
How do you know I belong with one?

"You're very lucky to be here with her.
She's the cutest girl in the room."
I am not his property.
You sound like you're offering a compliment on his dog.
I am not a dog or a thing to be complimented.
Did he groom me this way?
Have you even heard me speak?

I am not the summation of my experiences with men.
I am not the totality of my beauty or outward traits.
I am not property
I am not a token
I am not a symbol of worth.

I am a woman
with a voice
talents
feelings
wants
needs

I am a full life.
I am a woman.

As we change ourselves,we waste time.
Never realizing,we are perfect by what we may become.
We are saturated with society's perspective.
Propaganda tells young girls to cover themselves,to become someone else.
It tells young boys to stop imagining about their visions.
Children are persuaded to be content.
They cannot be free until they can be themselves.
        Propaganda by a running chauvinist monarchy.
Eve was reluctant to taking the fruit,but she did what was right.
In the end,willfulness,saved us all.
Doing what we want and loving who we please.
Forced to hide everything.
A tiny brown box with latches,inside,we are stored.

you are such a show off.
claiming to know the meanings of true love.

invasion of men
calling me at ten.

wanting to get something they don't deserve
and you  not really helping by also being a perv...

where were you when I was there?
I am now here.

yeah, go ahead, pretend to care
calling me "dear"

it won't help this time around
for I will stand my ground

won't sell my body for a couple of compliments
you don't really mean...

It's actually more of an insult if you think I'm that keen

where has this world gone
everyone lusting for
a ****

but when it comes to me, I guess you're outta
luck ! ;)

Could it be possible that I’m worth more than my ******?
When you look at me what do you see?

Because I am frightened by your eager eyes.
I am nervous at the way you so openly ask me,
“Are you married? What is your age?”
I pray in my mind that I’m just being naive.
Not every man is seeking to make you their toy.

But as I walk down the street, foreign tongues caress my ears,
Eyes poke at my curves,
Hands reach to cage me.

I am American.
I am white.
I am a college graduate.
I have a credit card.
I have a savings account.

But these things about me are not an excuse.
My skin may shine in the sun,
my belly may be well fed,
my privilege may make you jealous,
So hate me for my birthright,
But let me be free.

I am not here to save you.
I am not here to please you.

But let this be a lesson.
Let this interaction give me courage and hope that maybe you really do only want to talk.
Let my mind stop alerting my adrenaline to run so that when I need to I can outrun you.
Let this be a peace offering.
Let me tell you that I am American,
But that doesn't mean I’m a dollar sign.
That doesn’t mean I’m better than you.
It means that I was lucky.
Know that I am sorry.

I am not here to save you.
I am not here to please you.
I am here to be with you.

Does it offend you terribly
To see a girl so bold?
An undefeated smile
She wouldn't trade for solid gold
Rooted from dark histories
Of prejudice and shame
She struts with such a presence
Like the world should know her name

Does it boil your blood
To see a woman in demand?
Who doesn't care for limitations
Dictated by the man?
Doesn't need your validation,
Admiration or desire;
She treads upon a world so cold
And she will bring the fire

As a young girl,
I was taught that I only needed 3 things in life to be happy.
First, I needed a husband. I needed his love and I needed him to take care of me. I also needed to make him happy so that he would never leave me.
Second, I needed a family. I was told having a family would be the greatest joy I’d ever experience and would keep me satisfied for the rest of my life.
Third, I needed a beautiful home that other people envied.
Well..
I grew up.
I experienced all these things
but yet,
I am more unhappy now than I have ever been.
My home feels less like a home,
and more like a prison.
because I am bound to it.
I am bound to that home,  
simply because I am a woman and this is what women do, right?
Because my gender defines me and confines me to this one lifestyle.
After all,
this is what my mother and her mother did,
and they seemed content.
But why should this be it?
I don’t even know who I am!
Ask me what I do,
I’ll tell you
“nothing, I’m just a housewife”.
Ask me about myself,
and I’ll tell you about my family.
because I am not my own person.
I belong to the stigma that my gender should define who I am
and put boundaries on my capabilities.
That I am limited to certain tasks
and I cannot be anything more than I am expected to be.
I have created this illusion that I am satisfied
when I am not.
I am disappointed and I’m wondering if this is it.
Is this really what I am made for?
My life is like clockwork.
Everyday I go through the routines,
over and over,
silently praying for the day when I am free to be whomever I wish.
But for now,
I am nothing.
I am only a housewife.

I’m not Careless
(But I’m not Careful).
I’m not Reckless
(But I’m not Mindful).

Why can’t Helpless and Careless conceive,
and why can only Reckless and Blameful breed?
Why is it that I swaddle Responsibility, the daughter of Action?
Why is it that I nurse Responsibility, the sister of Reaction?
For how many nights must I be disturbed by Responsibility’s cries?
She is your child, not mine
(But at the market, they all mistake me for the mother).
And somewhere you sleep soundly -
While here I weep silently,
failing to calm the screams of a weary infant hovering over my heart.

Would you say I’m less than because
I refuse to be Shameful?
Would you say you’re Regretful
or just Remorseless?
Will you father Responsibility,
or will I tuck her in every night?

I can’t answer for you
(But I’m not Voiceless):
None of this makes me less than a woman,
I can say what I’m not
(But I know what I am):
Powerful.

-bes-