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Amanda 1d
In a Catholic school, I was nothing
but an untrained brain, a pair of legs
in a short skirt, and calves in knee-high black socks
pulling my skirt down, tugging at the wool
to protect myself. I never thought
myself to be apart of that group,
never gotten ***** or abused, but then,
I thought longer…harder about my position,

and your greedy hand still finds my legs
under the wool, despite my efforts, lingering
there for half a second too long. I still feel it
when I put myself back in that desk.
It wasn’t friendly. It wasn’t innocent.  
You knew what you were doing.
The excuses I made to justify
your behavior. I couldn’t fathom
how you, a man, much older than me,
could touch me without my permission—
How easily you could do that to me.
Invade my space while I sat there,
unsure of what to say or do. And now,
years later, I quietly utter beneath
my breath, “Me too.”
Elizabeth C Oct 3
“Hey sugar”
“**** that’s a nice ***.”
“Gimme a smile!”
“Hey girl where you going?”
“*******, you’re **** anyway.”
“Hey I paid you a compliment *****.”

I was told that I should be grateful for catcalls.
It means we’re cute.
It means someone finds us attractive and is paying us a compliment.
It’s better than never getting complimented by anyone.
The few, but not guaranteed compliments from normal strangers makes up for all the sexualization of our bodies.
They didn’t see a difference between “gimme your number” and “you look pretty”.
According to them, catcalls were just compliments from psychos.
But besides, “There aren’t psychos for the unattractive people anyway”.

I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were so busy wallowing in your own insecurities that you believe it’s the victims’ faults they were sexualized.
If only they were uglier. I see the light now!
Like you said, “Why assault an unattractive lady and risk jail if you can go for one that is gorgeous?”
My mind is totally changed now.
Let me minimize our problems so that they fit inside your comfort zone.
Here, take my body. Switch around my morals. Rip away my opinions. Silence my voice.
I’m just a feminist who can’t talk about a topic without getting emotional anyway.

This argument was preceded by a girl who’s constantly objectified sharing with a group chat of “friends” a time she was catcalled in line for Chick-fil-A...
And then she was attacked for not appreciating it.
By a boy who will never understand what it’s like to be a woman.
He said he would prefer unsolicited ****** advances than nothing at all.
When I said that his opinions mirror “she was ***** because of what she wore” he couldn’t understand why the conversation was suddenly about ****** assault.
He doesn’t understand that we don’t know what will come from a catcall.

Catcalls are not compliments.
They are yet another way men can exert control over women.
They are a way to remind us that we do not belong to ourselves, but to them.
They tell us that our bodies are objects that they can use whenever they want.
Catcalls are words laced with fear.
They are poison that drip from the mouths of harassers and invade our minds.

If we ignore it will we be insulted or assaulted?
If I stop texting this guy will he come back to my work?
Will this guy behind me pay attention to which apartment I go into?
Will I have to use my pepper spray during a ten minute walk back home?
Am I going to survive passing by this random group of guys?
Please don’t follow me home. Please stop following me. Is he gone yet?
The anxious questions go on and on and on...

But hey. At least someone finds us attractive.
Emerson Sep 24
“So a guy and a girl walk into a bar...”

I'm sorry sir but what do you mean?
I don't understand it
Can't you explain? I'm very confused
No I am not an emotionless person
(Most of the time)
But I am confused

No sir don't get me involved
Don't like being made fun of
A second hand joke
No I'm not coming on stage with you sir
Can't you understand?
I don't want to and I won't go

No sir stop doing that
I will literally slap you if you do not stop
I will scream
I will shout

Yes sir, that was offensive

Yes sir, I won't be seeing you in court
Because they won't believe a 'woman' like me
And claim it was because of what I wear
And claim I sat in a crowd to be a second hand joke

Then, this story and what I told you
Will just be another injustice in the world
In which most people will find some other injustice
And move on
Very quickly

It'll be another joke
A joke in a bar
Oh yes
I get it now
I get the joke
It was a horrible one
And I'm talking to it
See if you can get the second message. Read through the poem and let me know. If you want to know the answer, read the bit below:

Ok you're reading the message! That's good I guess. If you are distressed easily, don't read it.

Ok so the idea was, this poem was the logistics (in my opinion) of ****/****** harassment. This once happened to me (today is actually around the time it happened) when I was 12. A guy, who was around 17, who I had only known for AN HOUR tried to make me his girlfriend.
Yes, you read correctly. he tried to do that.
But my mother got the hint immediately (thank *** for mothers sometimes) and immediately contacted his mother. She explained he has ADHD (fair enough, I mean, I do have autism myself so I get that) but could not process how uncomfortable I was (especially since I was 12 and very socially awkward).
I also read something where some **** cases are blamed on what woman wear (yes you read that correctly). It actually disgusts me that people think woman dress so they can be sexually harassed and *****. Yes because people like to be traumatised and upset.
I hope that if anything like this happens, you go to the people who can help you and give you the support you need. Thank you for reading :)
Bexis Aug 17
Dear trolls,
Just so you know, your comments don't mean much.
You think you know something to be true.
Well hate to break it to you, but you're wrong.
Everything you think you know is way off base.
I thought I should let you know.
We do this for entertainment sake.
So be confused but don't hate.


P.S. This is a poetry site not Facebook it should be about the art.

P.S.S I like tacos

P.S.S.S Hi!
Not a puppet account. Especially since I don't like puppets.
Mona Lisa, mona linda,
O emblem of western beauty!
A hundred greedy eyes rest on you,
Drinking you in.

Crowds and crowds gather
To feast on your unsmiling face,
Your stiff posture, your
Lifeless gaze.

Within the golden frame you are
Frozen in time
And unable to escape those relentless gawks.

Life imprisonment
With an audience of 2 million.

Adoring fans, passers-by
Cry out in praise!
“Beauty, beauty, beauty!”

Do they know what they see?
Bland Western beauty standards served up on a plate.

Fresh from Ireland and ready to eat.
Dreams of wealth and success
Wrapped up in pale white skin
And short blonde hair.
"mona linda" is Spanish for "pretty blonde". I recently moved to Colombia and am pursued by these shouts, accompanied by stares wherever I go. Another product manufactured for male gaze. These shouts are my punishment for having the audacity to be alive and walk down the street.
6.4.18 //
They say misery loves company
I never once asked for the seat beside
Me to be filled
Palms drenched
While spotted digits
Poke and **** at my privacy “No rights, no voice”
Assuming “my place” in “your home”
False prophets, empty words
Kneeling for a man
Who refuses to acknowledge my pulse
I told you not to lay a hand on my body
“Dress down” “Smile”
Forced “Back where you belong”
Razor tongue, I’ve grown tired
Of running in place
Unable to stand my ground
They say dead men tell no tales
But the women always do
So as a siren does
I grow fond of your demise
And grin amongst the wreckage
I heard the footsteps as they came across the road;
The snap of hurried feet outside the house.
Shapes in the moonlight, a voice in the darkness,
A knock at the door, I heard the dogs barking.    
The bleating of the flock,
The chatter of the birds omongst the trees,
I recall the whisper of the morning breeze;
Hyphening the broken silence as two boys stole about the house;
It was midnight in August 99.
Two sparks set out to chase the bang!
Bang!~ set them running.
I cut them down!
I cut them down!
I heard the sirens as the cops sped up the road;
The squeal of hurried wheels outside the house.
Shapes in the moonlight, a voice in the darkness,
A knock at the door, I heard the dogs barking.
The bleating of the flock,
The chatter of the birds amongst the trees,
I recall the whisper of the morning breeze;
Hyphening the broken silence as two cops stole about the house;
It was midnight in August 99.
Two cops set out to chase the bang!  
Bang! ~I put my hands up!
~and the cops took me down!
The Plea ~
Judge I’m guilty, for everything they said I did; I did!
But there were reasons, don’t you see:
These boys; they were bullying me!
I called the cops on monday,  Tuesday,, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday again; till i was insain;
Two sparks set out to chase the bang!
Bang ~I cut them down ~ I cut them down!
Two cops set out to chase the bang!
Bang! ~ I put my hands up !
~ and the cops  took me down!

But the wolf just gave me twenty
untill the circus came to town,
As a victim I was lonely
but as a killer I was crowned.
King of the castle!
Top of the heap!
The talk of the town!
Here is the song link
Have you ever stared
at a blank piece of paper
for so long
it starts turning into
a concert of unanswered questions
posed by a teenager
who is awakened
about his sexuality
which was long repressed
under the secrets
he was asked to keep
the things he had to hide
the pain he slid under the carpet
with a smile on his face
he was no snitch
he liked keeping
the paper blank
he was a good boy
who could keep things with him
the boy was in deep sleep,
that boy, he was in deep sleep,
and now he is awake
he knows what he lost
he knows what's good and
what's bad
he knows
the world will question him
why he didn't speak earlier
why now
why now
why now
the world will eat him up
but he knows at this point
nothing matters to him more
than what he lost
than what is ahead
give me my childhood
give me my childhood
give me my childhood
he screams
he stutters
he cries
I am done
I am awake
I am free
it's time to color this page black
it's time to turn the page.
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