Womanhood

In my ever eternal fight between
Pain and rapid mood swings
I have learned to accept
What I have been given by my mother.

Womanhood

In my ever insulting fight between
Objectification and misunderstanding
I have come to understand
"My body is a temple"
Is not a complement but an insult.

Womanhood

As my hair grows longer and longer
And I cut it shorter and shorter
And people tell me to "look more feminine"
I can't help but dress "more masculine."

Womanhood

Because I have to accentuate my assets
With tight jeans and skinny dresses
And if I forget a push-up bra
"It's a boy" jokes are made.

Womanhood

Because my knowledge of cars
And my firm hand shake
Awes men and makes them test me
Instead of conversing with me and moving on with their day

Womanhood

Because I am scared to leave the house by myself
And my father's overbearing protection
Instead of believing I can protect myself
In any given situation

Womanhood

Because my brother can go out whenever he wants
And can curse like a sailor
But I have to be a sweet southern belle
And answer a million and one questions just to take a walk

Womanhood

Because we have to justify ourselves
Because guys have to be perfect in the eyes of "feminists"
Because all of this bullsh!t has gone over the edge.

Womanhood

I can't call myself a feminist
And I sure ain't a misogynist
I'm just trying to scrape by
Just trying to get through this trying

Womanhood

Do I dare count the men
Who have slithered between my legs?
Is “What’s your number?” just a possible question
Or is it a question that begs?

Do I dare add merit to fluid actions
That ripples through life’s ebb?
Or will such an answer create disruption?
Will it wrestle with my head?

And if this is so, do I have a duty
To answer this knocking question?
Am I neglecting, truly,
A responsibility privilege presented?

Can I face this number without hurt?
Is it truly unimportant?
Or with it will I uncover a sting?
Will I unveil undue torment?

Curiosity rears its head
Maybe years from now I will face it
But for now I fear that I’m much too vulnerable
Granted its importance was merely created

I am just as curious as the man who created
The importance of such summing
But his legacy is much too strong for me
Through shallow eyes
Such as mine
It will endow me *unbecoming.

She drank champagne out of a coffee mug

She had day dreams at night, nightmares during the day

Her face was naked to the world every day, natural

Her heart was naked to the world too

Her eyes sang songs and her lips whispered stories

Her spirit wasn't contained by her body, it swirled around her infecting the people surrounding her

She was unaware of reality and reality was unaware of her

She danced through time and time danced through her

And as the years flew by she became lighter, hollow

When the world penetrated her reality

Her little reality became an unreality, a place to hide from everything around her

Colors diluted, sound harsher, touch rougher

Her reality a tortoise shell, a veil and she became lighter and the wind threatened to blow her away.

Scene changes, ocean enters, she enters

She's on a Dover cliff now and the wind is stronger

Hair free, veil being ripped away, youth gone

Halfway into womanhood but she's hardly here

She is in her own golden reality

And the wind blows

                                       her

                                                        a   ­         w    a         y.

Girl,
You’ll be a woman
Soon, so start
Straightening your hair
So it’s smooth and shiny
And cake on your cumbersome
Concealer because
Acne is for boys.
Browse bras in Victoria’s Secret
The ones with plentiful padding,
Push-up, so your cleavage
Screams: “I am a grown lady”
Even though you’re only thirteen.
Trade your sweats for slimming
Jeans that squeeze, skin-tight
Telling you to take a trot to trim
Your waist because you weigh
More than a delicate number.

Flowers sprouted from my body
and their thorns
dug into me
leaving storms
on my mind
and red petals lined
by my thighs

{i remember}

She comes to presence
in a great wave of grief
that has no bottom.

{water cannot swim}

Feeling the unbearable
weight of womanhood
tearing me open,
revealing my own sorrows.

{a channel of life}*

To be a gate of love and blood,
the flesh of desire,
bearer of all burdens,

was so traumatic I was reborn
in the body of a man.