She deserved it.
Everyone agrees with me.
The signals mixing with the cocktails
and I don't even know what time it is.

She had it coming.
Her parents told her so.
I was acting like any guy would. Should.
Skin taunting. Hips hypnotising me with
That rhythmic pulsing
Suggesting
Requesting.

She wanted it.
How was I supposed to know
when she bit her
lip that way, flirted that
way, smiled that
way, dressed
that
way
asked
for
it.

She did it to herself.
It's not my fault.
That's the way things are, right?

When it comes to these things, Woman is despised.
Her *** is inferior in the face of man.
Her body is disgraced and considered unholy, deemed "temptress" and "defiler".
Why is this so?
What benefit is there to the dichotomy of the ****** and the *****?
Why is there only these two things which woman can aspire to?
Why, when Woman is strong and steadfast as the mountain
Who will not bow no matter how the wind howls!
When Woman is as fierce as the flame that ripples in her heart
and the searing heat of the volcano--
Why, then, is this language so?
Wasteful, wanton
Grotesque, sinful
Disgusting, passive
Unholy, sinful
Why? Why, when her womb creates the very essence of life on earth, is her beauty scorned?
Alas! Her very creations despise her existence
The sons of her ***** lack reverence for their mothers
For the very essence of Woman is taboo.
The apex of her thighs is at once deeply coveted and sincerely ignored
For there exists no greater shame than the moment her ***** first sheds its blood.
That first splash of crimson and black is the end of her girlhood
For once that first blood is drawn, her Womanhood cannot be denied.
At that moment, she becomes Object
No longer human, no longer girl
She is Object
To be coveted and have eyes laid upon her
She is Object
To be salivated over and seen as the ****** plaything of the Male Eye
She is Object, and she is human no more.
After the first emergence of ******* from her ribcage, the first rounding of her hips and thighs,
She is no longer worthy of anything but lust and contempt
For, it is certainly her fault that these sinful feelings arise.
Why on earth would it be the fault of the toxic mindset of Man, of his instinct to pillage and take what is not his?
Woman's body is her own, and yet, she is not treated so
She is laughed at, mocked, and spoken to in rage
Her rights of choice are threatened, soon to possibly go away
What, in this, is there to learn?
Why is our view of Woman so?
The gleam of the Patriarchy is too enticing to those who would change
And damning to those who refuse.
But they should be very afraid.
The righteous might of Woman is a force to be reckoned with.
Because, after all...

Hell hath no fury like a Woman scorned.

The bloodied wound
Of patriarchy
Swings majestically
Round my neck,
Wavering my thoughts
Of what to be
And what not to be.

I look around
Viewing people fight
Misogyny and sexism.

For I try to do that too,
Until I fall once again into a muck,
Watching **** crimes
On a daily basis
Watching acid attack victims
On a daily basis.

For, some
Are too illiterate to know the meaning
Of the word, no.
For their egos are so small,
That they can’t handle rejection.

The bloodied wound
Of patriarchy
Hangs majestically
Round my whole body,
Begging me to tame it,
Oh dear lord,
There is ****** of womanhood
happening all around,
With people pointing to the length of our clothes,
To the pitch of our voices.
-
@enchantingnachokitten

After thorough calculations there
are two possible outcomes of
arguing with my family:

Either one day the arguments will end patriarchy,
or one day the arguments will end me.

"Make yourself small
become invisible
until you are needed
don't take up space
starve yourself so that we find you appealing
cover and smear away
at your blemishes"
is the unspoken rule

Our bodies are not pitstops
for ravenous men
this flesh
these limbs
this ***** is a gift
and can be taken away,
just as it can be given

When they want you
docile and unassuming
seen but not heard
climb through the bars
of the prison you built
to please others
and make something of yourself
for in you alone, lies the power.
Esther L. Krenzin

every white wedding is exactly the same.
kitschy mason-jar centerpiece displays,
thirsty flowers in ornate vases,
lace-trimmed tablecloths and country-pop
songs blaring from the stereo.

welcome to cookie-cutter suburbia,
copy-and-pasted from half-a-hundred
Pinterest boards depicting
indistinguishable scenes
of smiles stretched paper-thin
on spray-tan painted faces.

my tongue is a skipping record,
regurgitating the same vapid
conversation ad nauseam,
stutter-stepping through
an indistinct refrain:
“how’s school going for you?”
“oh, really? an English degree?”
“and just what do you plan
to do with that, exactly?”

bourgeois blather follows flagrant patterns.
drunk uncles splutter racist rants
at this posh reception, but i’ve been told—
no matter what—don’t stir the ***.
avoid any and all discussion
of the current president’s
child concentration camps,
the war on immigrants,
or the escalating tensions
with Venezuela and Iran.

i am sick
to my stomach
of self-indulgence:
watered-down punch bowls, patriarchal
vows to god and government. “i do,”
an endless ******* feedback loop
droning tediously until my ears bleed.
sing the same hymns over acoustic guitars
while vocals peak in microphones.
reread 1 Corinthians 13:13, beg your deity
to bless the BBQ pork and beans.

dance along to the Cupid Shuffle
and be sure
to always follow the rules:
birth, youth,
college, marriage,
work, death.
consume.

The invisible scar
Of the patriarchy
Hangs over us
Masked by the shadows of tradition
Concealed within
Dazzling bursts of color
Billowing skirts
And spirited dancing

Hot acid flung
Scathing, searing, scalding
Because weak men
Cannot handle rejection

Wed the one you love
And bring shame
Upon the family
Honor killings
Does ******
Bring Dignity?

#JusticeforNirbhaya
#JusticeforAsifa
And now #JusticeforAiman
Our only crime
Is being female
Yet fingers are still pointed
At us
At the length of our dresses
At the makeup on our faces
At the way we smiled

How long
Until we are finally fed up
With a society
That would rather
A corpse
Over a girl?