Dear Daddy,
Do you know what these men say to me?

With their
eyes and their mouths
when I walk on the street.

With a grin and a nod
and a look up and down.
A wink and a kiss
and a cat call heard from downtown.

With my skirt short
and my top
low,
It’s a cold world daddy
and no
doesn’t mean no.

Daddy do you know
how these men look at me?

Like I’m a piece of meat
strutting down the street?
With my head buds in
and my favorite song on.

I’m asking for it Daddy,
I’m in the wrong.

Do you know how it feels
not to wear what I like?

To walk a little faster
when I’m alone at night?

Daddy the world is my predator
and I am it's doe,
Daddy what happens
when I can’t say no?

“Was it the backless back of a black dress that did it?”

                                          They’ll ask, loudly
                                          even though the wolves that roam these streets
                                          are merely feigning sleep
                                          and are starving

“Yes!”

                                          They will agree
                                          as drool slips from the hinge of a wolfish grin
                                          from the forked tongue
                                          of an angel

“What else could she expect?”

                                         Of course
                                         they must abide by the code of the pack(of course)
                                         which is of course
                                         the root of disrespect

“How obscene! How uncouth!”

                                         (how to measure human flesh)
                                         as if they could  hold up her “no(s)” to his “yes”
                                         which is bigger and louder
                                         and stronger

“Yes! … Yes! … Yes!”

                                         As if to them
                                         to the wolves, to the men, to the uncondemned
                                         what happened, really
                                         was for the best.

Arrival


Upon my arrival, I whisper-walked
Erasing my steps like a broom
I avoided bottlenecks and having my back to the door


Soft voices and sweet
Made me cringe
So did people who had no smell.


What was I,  they wanted to know,
Such a delicate and precariously balanced thing,
Doing at the Crossroads?  


Even the smallest and most inconsequential among us,
Could knock you apart
with a soft, experimental tap.  


I’m sure that when they were children
They broke all their toys.
And I’m a living doll.


Perhaps I should, but I don’t want
To creak open the hinges of their faces.
There are things worse than skulls and brains.


Such as humorless laughter.
Indifference. Intentions.
And voids.


What you must realize,
What you need to comprehend.
Is that.

At times like this,
A girl would give anything
To be ugly.

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 don't know what it's like
To be violated
To be held against your will
And felt up
And leave bruises
By someone you trusted
By someone you thought cared about you

You don't know what it's like to be used just for your body
By someone you thought cared for more than just nudes
By someone who told you were cute and pretty

You don't know what it's like to tell the person who violated you
What they did to you
And how it made you feel

You don't know what it's like to receive a fake apology
One only to get you to shut up
But as you're telling him your point of view
And as he's pretending to apologize
You could just feel all the "I don't cares" and "will you shut up nows"

You don't know what its like to attempt to leave an uncomfortable situation
Only to be pulled back by the handle on your backpack
Unaware of what is going on
You thought you were leaving

You don't know what it's like to be held up against the body
Of a strong, tall male
Unable to push him away
Unable to squirm out of the situation

You don't know what it's like to be barely able to breathe
Because your face is pressed right up against his side

But of course you knew he was strong
He played hockey and baseball
But you didn't know he was that strong

You don't know what it's like to be violated by someone you thought you could trust, or thought they could protect you.

Let's not mention how you don't know what it's like
To be sitting in class, sharing your homework with another boy
Only to feel his hand on your leg

You don't know what it's like to sit in a room full of students
And have no one notice what is happening
And you've shot a look that says don't do it
Yet he takes that as a look to continue to go up further
Because he thought it would increase tension
But really he made your self-worth decrease

You don't know what it's like to have an unwanted hand go up your skirt
And you thought it was okay to wear a skirt that day
Just like you wore one every other day
Because the Kilt was part of your school uniform
But of course that made your visible legs vulnerable
And it's a good thing that someone else call for his attention
Because you wanted anything but his

And you don't know what it's like to make a scene
Or to tell someone
Because you're not sure if you parents will be more upset
About you talking to boys or that your got yourself into those situations

You don't know what it's like to stay silent
Because you don't want to make matters worse

But it's my body, why would someone think they have access to it?

Because you don't know what it's like to be sexually assaulted

Hands clasp perfectly together
     A grip can’t be broken    
Flawless face drenched in auburn silk
     Cold eyes engulfed by charcoal-dipped cotton, searing a gaze into   memories      
Skin softer than water
     Each touch painting off-toned purples and greens    
Lips quiver in excitement
     Jaw clenched tighter with each painful glare    
One walks free
    *One forever marked

Yes doesn't always mean yes
And we forgot what no meant awhile ago
Does the sight of my purple bra strap
                 Turn you on?Oh well
           Dont teach me how to dress
           Teach your son not to ****
Dont give me detention for showing my
                 Melanin rich legs
        Teach your son not to stare
I should be able to wear what i want and
       Not be punished because I flaunt
             "What were you wearing?"
        "Clearly you were asking for it !"
                              HOW?

Does it make you feel powerful to tell me that
I do not own my body?
Do you get satisfaction from looking down on me
from the pedestal you’ve clawed and crawled your way onto?
Tell me,
does it make you feel good to threaten me
with words that come out of your mouth so empty
but land on my shoulders so heavy
Tell me,
do you get high from the nauseous look in her eyes
as she meets yours, slowly trespassing along her body?

Does it sound like music to hear the tremble in her voice,
look like art to see her to resent her femininity,
feel like silk to touch what you have no business touching?

Tell me what it is.
Tell me what you think you can get from me,
what it is you think I owe you.

Tell me that it is necessary, justify your theft –
Do you feed off of dehumanization,
can you pocket the profit from her sense of security,
shelter yourself with their rights, their body, their life?

Where did you learn to value your impulses over her innocence?
Where did you learn to assert yourself where you do not belong?
Where did you learn to rip a woman apart piece by piece
starting with her dignity and ending with her self-worth?

Tell me,
what does it feel like to own your body?

Women have so much to fear these days
We learn that when we're walking to our car in the dead of night
We should have our key jammed between our fingers in the fist of one hand
Poised as a weapon
And a jar of mace in the other
We learn to take catcalls as compliments
We learn that it is our fault if we get *****
Because when people hear about it, the words that should cross their lips--
"Is she okay?"
"Is the attacker doing time?"
--don't
Instead we hear "What was she wearing?"
Because if we dress a little less provocative
Maybe they will target someone else
Because we asked for this to happen
We are all learning the wrong way about everything
Instead of "ask consent" it's "don't get *****"
Instead of "be respectful" it's "you should be flattered"
Instead of "don't attack someone" it's "protect yourself"
Does society not see how backwards this it?
Instead of preventing the crime altogether, it's "make sure it's someone else"
Because if it's not us, it's not happening
We say "ignorance is bliss"
But really ignorance is being stupid enough to think, over and over
It won't happen to me
It won't happen to me
It won't happen to me
Because it can
It can happen to anyone
At any time
And we need to try our ******* best to stop it
Because she didn't dress that way for you
And she most certainly didn't ask for it

We do **** culture in uhmerica.

What is uhmerican culture anyway?
I'll explain:
it's like,
irrationalized entitlement,
moral decadence on every side
of every fence &
sick narcissistic pride
to be parasitic,
a louse *******
the life out of
the whole **** planet.

Men who have
everything
still die from depression.
Women who call
freedom co-decency
bold faced oppression.

**** first question later.

Hermits complaining
about the rain when
they know **** well
they don't even go outside.

Everyone lies to
everyone lies to
everyone lies to
everyone lies to
everyone.  

See?
It's a cycle.
A spiral.

Maybe it'll go quiet
into the night, or
maybe it'll ignite
the whole **** planet.

Has anyone else noticed
the rise and fall of
Napoleon & the Romans?  

How every worldwide empire dies?  
In a fiery gust of embarassment  
that was the special from the start.

I've grown numb
to the disgust I felt
towards everyone else &
the fact that they're all
kind of beyond helping.

Now I'm just waiting
for it all to fall apart.