#catcall
Little boy, I wish you could learn
What you’ve done wrong,
But I am afraid no one will ever put you in place
Well into your adulthood.
Little boy, I hope you learn.
Where are your parents now?
Letting you sit at a park
To torment me, someone twice your age.
You stand here now to harass two girls
“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”
Your voice echoes with me, permanently.
While you have the freedom,
To move along with your life and forget.
Your comments about us are disgusting.
They surround my skin like the sticky summer air
And leave me feeling gross.
Do you ever think of your mother when you say these things?
Maybe your sister?
A friend?
How could you treat a girl like this
How could you not think of them getting treated in this way?
I guess you’re just a little boy and don’t realize.
You must have learned this behavior from someone in your life
Maybe your father?
A brother?
A friend?
How could you have never been thought better
Has no one put you in place?
Told you this isn’t okay?
Little boy, I hope you realize it is it okay to tell people to make out
That it’s not okay to sexualized women
Minding their own business.
That it isn’t okay to torment any stranger,
or any person in your life for that matter.
Little boy, I hope your learn before it’s too late.
Jun 2, 2019
Jun 2, 2019 at 3:05 PM UTC
I wish it's my father's road,
For my father,
He'll take the right actions;
When strangers make a monkey out,
Of themselves, and induce fear
onto his daughter of flesh and blood.
I wish it is my father's road,
For my father,
Would not allow atrocity
To happen when he's on guard.
I wish it is my father's road,
For my father,
He does not have a vile temper,
But shows real anger when
I'm hurt.
And I'm hurt,
By names my father did not gave me,
On the road that does not belong
to my father.
Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 9:58 AM UTC
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.
Aug 4, 2018
Aug 4, 2018 at 4:54 PM UTC
I Send my words hurling into your airway like swords
I bite off your tongue with every sharp response my body conjures
I have every witty comeback on speed dial to drill into your spine
The way your gays drilled into mine Pull old pennies from my pockets and throw them into your eyes
So you may not look at me the way you have for so long
You're are barely worth my pennies anyways
Here's a donation to your sorry ***
How about I grasp your neck, at just the right spot, just hard enough, to crush your voice box
To dwindle your air pipe just a little
So you cannot throw those trash comments at anyone else
How about I crack each of your fingers
Push them deep into your pockets
So that you can't feel anything without remembering me
You look at me like a mannequin in the window of your favorite retail store
You try yo put a price on what I'm worth
Maybe you can try me on
Throw me on the floor
Grab another
How about I tattoo my name on your chest
So that you cannot take off another piece of clothing
Take off another girl
Throw them in the floor
And not remember me
You will never throw me on the floor again
For I am permanently burned into your chest
How about I burn off each hair on your body
One at a time let it Sizzle down and sear the skin
Let each tiny poor feel the pain one at a time over and over and over again
Until you are left, raw
This
Is the day I speak back when you catcall me from across the street
Jul 4, 2018
Jul 4, 2018 at 7:21 PM UTC
HOW do you justify staring
EVERYTIME I see you my blood cools
LOWER your eyes to memorize my body
PLEASE yourself while making me an object
LEAVE my humanity to make it through
EVENTUALLY you leave finally full
SAVING myself is impossible
SELF becomes foreign
Jun 7, 2018
Jun 7, 2018 at 12:11 AM UTC
I think sometimes my nose is pulled so high into the air that I am a skyscraper
that my ears hear only Birds
that my skin feels only wind
but my ears
that is not what they hear
they hear
“hey baby”
**** girl...”
“What u doin all alone”
my skin-
feels their hands
feels their selfish - dominance
their greed, for my, body
so my nose, goes higher up.
while my heart, sinks further down
I cannot ignore their words,
or rather, I should not ignore their words for my own protection
because that makes me feisty
makes me unattractive
makes me stingy
to withhold myself from their, greedy, hands
so I must respond
or at least acknowledge
be confident
be ignorant
pretend you didn't know it was anything more than a compliment
flash them a smile
continue walking
and Oh...
don't forget to say
thank you.
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 10:59 PM UTC
Maybe that's why
I prefer dogs;
animals probably have
more culture than you.
the way you take
quick glances at my trembling self
by the roadside,
with ear-piercing whistling—
does that excite you
as much as it scares me?
you made me look at
my long-sleeved dress
and ankle-hidden boots;
yet I question,
are my outfits deemed ******
till it entices your manhood?
I grip my bags firmly
and wallow in self-grief
for temporary relief,
as I fear more than just
compliments threw by
preys on the streets.
should you disagree,
of my brother,
whistling and signalling
your blood-sister,
should you disagree,
of my father,
oversexualising your mother,
then don't be a disgrace
to the ladies watching.
Apr 10, 2018
Apr 10, 2018 at 12:20 PM UTC
thanks
no i mean it
thanks
i was actually feeling a bit
d
o
w
n
and i needed you to tell me
on a monday night
at 7:53
in the middle of july
that i had i nice ***
it really brightened my day
to know
that i
a human person
can be complimented
because of my
assets
instead of the fact
that i work
all the time
without getting tired
or giving up
or that
i study
so much
i feel like
i'm falling apart
or that
i spend time
trying to make the world
around me
a little
bit
better
i really wanted to affirm
what girls are told
from the time
they can listen
that cup size matters
and whether or not
you fill out your jeans
means
whether or not
you might matter
that we will be ignored
in the work place
if we aren't
supermodels
and even if we are
that is all we become
bodies
not people
you know
somebody once told me
it doesn't matter
what you look like
because your personality can make up
for anything
which should be good
like
i look like quasimodo
but with a sense of humor
and a bit of *****
i'm esmerelda
i can look like a spork
but if i laugh
and play along
like nothing's wrong
like girls should
i can be a full fork
i love that i have to be something
really
i do
i love that being
is more important than
existing
i love that i have to be someone who listens and never speaks
i love that i have to work with all my might to be thin enough for people who don't care about other people
i love that i have to have a double d and up in order to be even noticed
i love that my **** has to be filled out and gigantic so that i can be assured personhood by a man
because girls are only
what
the
men
see
we are reduced to objects
who give up
and don't fight
because the women who fight
are criticized
and *****
and killed
and we can't stop it
because the more we speak
the more we are silenced
so thank you
sir
for reminding me at 7:53
in a menards parking lot
your wedding ring glinting
like the malice in your eye
that all i am
is
what you see
Oct 1, 2017
Oct 1, 2017 at 8:52 PM UTC
The first time he kissed me, my friends assured me that I was just another body
I dutifully disagreed- "I am special"
The second time he kissed me, I learned pretty fast that my friends were right
I need not be
I am not special I am just
A woman
When a stranger wrapped his scarf around my chest,
His foreign accent fondling me with the words explaining that
he would be jealous to see other men looking at me I smiled
politely and waited to be dug out by my friends nearby because
I am not special I am just
The body of a woman
Hearing a whistle blown towards my general direction I bow my head, ignore all of the "hey baby"sand "que linda"s
Shrinking into myself I hope to disappear from the street because
I am not special I am just
The body of a woman
Walking the city alone, I make sure to act as if nobody is there hoping with futility
That maybe if they can not be seen then I will not be seen either
Although I do not need to try so hard to become invisible because
I am not special I am just
The body of a woman
Waiting to hear from you and allowing myself to be passive with our fate I rehearse that I am just another kiss, another body for you to call home because
I am not special I am just
The body of woman
These days I do not measure my worth in pounds on the scale because
That number is far too large- far too significant
Instead I look to the tags inside my pants because they represent how much space I do not take up
Exploring the streets I am constantly checking how many shadows are following behind me
What turns they're taking and how far behind they are
My escape routes are already planned for the inevitable because
no matter how significant I truly am, that is always compensated for through the insignificance of my body no-
Our bodies, women
We are miraculous, glory filled temples
It is not our fault that no matter how much fabric we try to hide behind we are always ****** beings that
Our accomplishments are that much more revered because we had to overcome our womanhood first that
Woman is a necessary adjective to frame titles or context because
Without it one will assume a man is being spoken of
Each day is a cause for celebration because each sunset marks another day of survival but the morning sunrise alerts us for another day at war
Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 3:46 PM UTC
You want to be pretty but not too pretty
But does it really change anything?
They **** you if you if you have on too little clothes
They **** you if you have on too much
There are so many excuses
She was asking for it
I was doing her a favor
I’m the victim here
Is there any way to be safe?
Is there any way to know that this isn’t the day that your entire life could change?
They whistle, they shout, they holler at you like you are an animal
But you can’t fight back
Three against one
So you keep walking
Praying they don’t follow you, grab you
Or even stab you because you didn’t return their crude remarks with a thank you
Society says that
We should accept ****** harassment as a compliment
But I don’t need your opinion on my body
I don’t want you looking at me like I am a piece of meat
I am not a ****** object made to please you
I want to live in a world where I don’t have to be afraid of men
Worried that smiling at them is interpreted as an invitation
Or by not means I need to be taught a lesson
I want my son to look at women as what they really are
Beautiful, brilliant creatures
And not by what society tells him they are
Objects, available for your pleasing
I want to be able to watch my daughter walk out of the house and
Not worry that she might never come back because a
MAN decided that she was there for the taking
But we don’t educate
We don’t teach in our schools how common ****** harassment is
Or the effect that **** has on a woman because a man’s perogative is to get what he wants
Or how every woman is terrified that her body, her self will be taken from her
Why?
Because we’re uncomfortable
We don’t speak out because we don’t want to disrupt
I’m tired
I’m tired of these excuses
Jan 8, 2016
Jan 8, 2016 at 4:59 PM UTC
Pretty Boy calls my body “Hourglass”
Funny, I’m not the one wasting my time.
(He got some things right, though. My body is not soft. My body is not fruit. My body is hard. My body takes its time.)
Pretty Boy wants a grain of sand; doesn’t care that he has to break the whole thing to get it.
While he’s at it, Pretty Boy takes more than he originally intended. Takes more than he was offered.
He Takes
and takes
and takes
and doesn’t give a ****
He broke that too.
Now I’m all washed up in this lake of glass.
Well, it’s a good thing he likes long walks on the beach.
Or ***** as he calls it
“it,” of course, being me.
Pretty Boy knows exactly what not to say
to get me to sleep with him
Pretty Boy is confused
wants to know why I 'do not like' him.
Now I could tell Pretty Boy:
A. that I like girls
B. that I’m seeing someone
C. that I’m just not interested.
D. that I —-
But this is not multiple choice.
This is extended response.
One where I repeat the same thing
over
and over
and over
to all the Pretty Boys.
Dec 24, 2015
Dec 24, 2015 at 3:29 AM UTC
being a girl
is feeling more comfortable
leaving your purse
or coat
or phone
with someone when you need to use the bathroom
than you feel with leaving
your drink
being a girl
means being cat called
and having to accept it
it means only feeling comfortable
with your boyfriend
or dad
by your side
being a girl
is insecurity
in being anywhere
without protection
because we are prey
right or wrong
it's the truth
and I live it every day
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 3:58 PM UTC
when i say i want to take kickboxing,
join the gym
it's for the meatheads
it's for the men who think their cars are armor
who think their voices are god
it's a properly thrown punch for the girls
who do nothing but exist in the world
in their own bodies
in their clothes
this is the one time my mother excused me
for screaming **** you
to the man who said
a girl walking on the other side of the street
was
a **** **** ***** and
honking his horn
i want to learn how to down someone three times my size with a single strike,
to be the silent
protector
of the world
Aug 29, 2015
Aug 29, 2015 at 2:55 PM UTC
My name is LITTLE LADY and I am ten years old visiting family. Your eyes hungrily take in my young body and your truck slows down and my heart pounds in my chest. You yell horrible things at me and tears sting my eyes and I run all the way home. I dare not stop to see if you’re following, that would give you an unfair advantage.
My name is SWEET THING and I am twelve years old and we are all here to honor him. Do you have no respect for where we are? Evidently not as you grip my shoulder with an alarming force and I hide in the bathroom while the service carries on. My mother will be furious later that I missed my best friend’s funeral but I’m sure JP would understand mum, I’m sure he would understand how frightened I was.
My name is CHEEKY and I am thirteen years old at the beach with my family. You untie my bikini top and throw it out to the lake. I am mortified and they are laughing and you are laughing and I don’t know how to cope. I cover myself with the last bit of dignity I can muster as my father repeats the four words that have been their excuse for ages, “Boys will be boys”
My name is ***** JUST LOOK AT ME** and I am fifteen years old, words to you that means “old enough”. I am livid but you have the advantage with your size and I cannot defend myself. I hold my keys tight in my fist and bare my teeth like a wolf. I am afraid but the anger rises higher than fear.
My name is ******** and I am seventeen years old. I am strong and unafraid, but with every call I am suddenly ten years old again and running away from the man in the truck. I am strong; so strong, and I must defend myself because no one else will. I must defend myself because no man will ever have the satisfaction of saying they were the one that broke me. I must defend myself because I should never be afraid to walk alone.
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 12:30 PM UTC