"harassed" poems
I'm struggling with what it means to be a woman.
Does it mean that I am always in competition to be the top of my species?
Does it mean that I need to be perfect without a single curve out of line in order to find love?
Does it mean that I am only defined when owned by a man?
Does it mean that I can only find purpose in childbirth?
Does it mean that I will forever live in the shadow of men?
Does it mean that I am an object invented solely for a man's pleasure?
Does it mean that I'm forced to confine to gender roles and live in someone else's story?
Does it mean that I'm supposed to accept it when I'm harassed from across the street?
Does it mean that I'm supposed to lie there silent when he puts his hands up my skirt?
Does it mean that I am only worth 77 cents to a man’s dollar?
Does it mean that I am defined by my looks rather than my intelligence?
Does it mean that I will never be capable of holding a major position of power due to my mood swings?
Does it mean that I am defined by how many men I have had *** with?
Or does it mean something else entirely.
It's difficult learning to love being a woman.
Obvious and damaging disadvantages are visible to observers.
We are regarded as second best, property of our man.
We are erased from history, our pain is minimized and forgotten.
We are oppressed and have to fight for our rights.
We are afraid to walk the streets at night, afraid for our lives.
We are harassed without care and without penalty.
We are ***** and murdered for refusing proposals.
We are expected to live on the sidelines as a housewife whose only priority should be her children.
We are expected to keep quiet in situations of domestic abuse.
We are expected to be perfect, and pretty, fresh for a man’s picking.
We can’t even advocate for our own equality without being demonized.
There are times where I wish I wasn’t a woman.
Being a woman comes with innumerable expectations, pressures, and responsibilities.
My existence is not defined by a man, or by the patriarchal expectations that have been placed on me.
I am breaking free of my confinements and I’m not afraid to admit that,
I'm struggling with what it means to be a woman. And that's okay.
//sarahmann
Mar 25, 2018
Mar 25, 2018 at 3:10 AM UTC
Looking at the clock, I struggle
Despair floating like an eye floaty thing
Get the hell out of here
Like cheese, I age, the more so the more I smell like a ****** old guy like god **** quit buying clothes from Dillard's
Like an onion, I make people cry because my face resembles a donkey getting ***** by an eagle that's ice skating and juggling
All at the same time.
Stuck in my socioeconomic class
My mom is getting harassed
My brain cells are getting grassed
I hate communists.
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 1:28 PM UTC
Loyalty
They talk about loyalty,
Like it’s a fantasy,
They talk about loyalty,
But have no clue, what it means.
They talk about equality,
Like it’s currently happening,
They talk about democracy,
But have no clue, what it means.
Glocks aimed at cops,
Glocks aimed back at someone’s pop,
Many lives have been lost over Gaup.
Gaup that buys whips and thots.
All got something to prove,
But to who?
All got something to lose,
What will you choose?
If money equal power,
Than why is the taste so sour?
After all the castles and ivory towers.
You’re left a lonely dragon like bowser.
Loyalty tell me what it means to me?
To hang with royalty,
Or help those in poverty.
The place I used to be.
Helping people like me.
That society has coated with a cloak of invisibility.
Because they can’t stand minorities.
And that’s why we can’t stand authorities.
A toxic cycle that stems from a different ideology.
Instead of equality,
We have uniformity,
Instead of democracy,
We have white supremacy.
Instead of loyalty,
We have hypocrisy.
They talk about loyalty,
Like it’s a fantasy,
They talk about loyalty,
But have no clue, what it means.
They talk about equality,
Like it’s currently happening,
They talk about democracy,
But have no clue, what it means.
Too many broken promises,
I feel like James Sie,
Losing all his cabbages.
But since we are deemed as savages,
All the damages attributed,
Are treated as shenanigans,
Instead of answering calls to action,
We have a government completely dumbfounded.
Instead of compassion,
We are harassed and hounded.
We still got all lot of work to do.
And I hope one day we’ll have a breakthrough!
For we all got something to prove?
But to who? Maybe for me or for you!
All got something to lose,
If we never take the time to put on another’s shoe.
So, what will you choose?
Will you help light the fuse?
Or treat this issue like your alarm clock,
And put in on snooze?
Who will you be loyal to?
Your heart? Or to your privilege?
Hmm…
They talk about loyalty,
Like it’s a fantasy,
They talk about loyalty,
But have no clue, what it means.
They talk about equality,
Like it’s currently happening,
They talk about democracy,
But have no clue, what it means.
Jun 16, 2021
Jun 16, 2021 at 8:26 PM UTC
I need feminism
because men are more upset about people saying "all men"
than they are about the fact that 1 in 4 women will be ***** in their lifetime.
Not harassed, not catcalled,
*****
And that is not okay.
I need feminism because out of the four women
I speak to everyday
two of them have been *****
and all four of them can't walk to their car
without sticking their keys through their fingers to
feel the slightest inclination of safety.
I need feminism
because the other day in my math class
a student said "She was asking for it"
and the teacher agreed.
I need feminism
because when my father wasn't drinking
he was telling me to be a man.
I need feminism
because the way my father taught me to treat women
was to get them drunk.
It's not his fault,
he knew no better.
I need feminism
because my father knew no better.
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 11:08 PM UTC
Bravery
I thought I was brave
with the scars to prove it.
My legacy -
broken bones, split knuckles,
black eyes and loose teeth.
Adulation and respect.
I fought both man and isms
Never backed down.
But a black man, driving
an Uber taught me the truth of
true bravery.
Harassed, insulted, threatened by
a low-life passenger,
white racism covered in a cheap suit and tie,
he refused to take the bait.
He denied himself the pleasure of
justified violence.
He told me his story -
and anger for him, righteous indignation,
crashed over me in furious waves.
I admonished him for not
confronting that mans ignorance
with a closed and determined fist.
Never back down, right?
Gently, he spoke the truth of
black men in America.
His eyes caught mine in the rearview mirror.
You, he said, are innocent until proven guilty.
Protected by a system that
oppresses me.
I am guilty - period - and would be lucky
to be arrested, not killed,
in a confrontation with that bigot.
So he did nothing, let the swine in a tie
off at his destination,
and drove on - leaving that pig to
wallow in his hate.
His bravery earned him nothing.
No adulation. No respect. No recognition.
Nothing except another day of life.
Another day with his family.
In contrast - my lifetime of bravery.
A pale reflection, when set beside his truth.
He was brave, not I.
My self-styled bravery, forever
tainted
by my privilege.
Jan 1, 2019
Jan 1, 2019 at 11:53 AM UTC
Life has many milestones.
Each bringing a significant change to one's life.
Whether that be a birthday, a wedding, a child.
But it's difficult to admit the sadder milestones that we carry with us.
However these negative moments also have a significant effect on us.
This is my list of milestones I hate to admit.
But they have impacted me tramendously.
It's time I released them so I can look ahead.
Molested by a boy at age 4.
Countlessly ***** by my sister starting at age 5.
***** by my therapist at age 7.
Beat by my sister throughout childhood.
Bribed and verbally abused by my step father to condition me to keep my issues to myself.
Traumatized at 10 by my father and his ex due to a domestic abuse situation.
Almost drowned from my first public panic attack at age 16.
Harassed by a man at a concert at age 20.
Endured the hell that relationships always bring.
Attempted suicide twice at age 21.
And a man attempted to **** me at a party last week while I was intoxicated.
I know I'm not the only one with these difficult memories.
And knowing I'm not alone will always be my comfort.
But I'm letting it all out;
purging out the evil so I can be releaved.
And now my hope is to heal and become whole again in the healthiest way possible.
I can overcome these milestones.
I know I can.
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 12:33 AM UTC
A little while, a little while,
The weary task is put away,
And I can sing and I can smile,
Alike, while I have holiday.
Why wilt thou go, my harassed heart,
What thought, what scene invites thee now?
What spot, or near or far,
Has rest for thee, my weary brow?
There is a spot, mid barren hills,
Where winter howls, and driving rain;
But if the dreary tempest chills,
There is a light that warms again.
The house is old, the trees are bare,
Moonless above bends twilight's dome;
But what on earth is half so dear,
So longed for, as the hearth of home?
The mute bird sitting on the stone,
The dank moss dripping from the wall,
The thorn-trees gaunt, the walks o'ergrown,
I love them, how I love them all!
Still, as I mused, the naked room,
The alien firelight died away,
And from the midst of cheerless gloom
I passed to bright unclouded day.
A little and a lone green lane
That opened on a common wide;
A distant, dreamy, dim blue chain
Of mountains circling every side;
A heaven so clear, an earth so calm,
So sweet, so soft, so hushed an air;
And, deepening still the dream-like charm,
Wild moor-sheep feeding everywhere.
That was the scene, I knew it well;
I knew the turfy pathway's sweep
That, winding o'er each billowy swell,
Marked out the tracks of wandering sheep.
Even as I stood with raptured eye,
Absorbed in bliss so deep and dear,
My hour of rest had fleeted by,
And back came labour, ******* care.
3.9k
Human Trafficking
This one thing evolved
Such a badly that
31.6 billion dollars
Of trade is happening
In the world per annum
Mostly women and
Some young girls
They were harassed
Sexually, sometimes forced
To marry someone or making them
Slaves and more that I cannot
Explain them in words
Because knowing about it
I became dumb
They are tortured and given electrical
Shocks if they refuse their offer
Many are affected with ***
They offer a job by telling about
The packages and the accommodation
And finally when they are in their traps
They will show their evil faces and
Torture them
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 11:20 PM UTC
I hate you when you catcall her
I feel the anger rise, tightly coiled in my stomach
Clench my fists and feel my blood pound,
Because I know what you do to her,
Reducing her to her body, just for your pleasure.
To you she is only a body, just another opportunity to prove
your manliness, your superiority.
Just another girl to humiliate.
I know this and my rage roars, a dragon, untamable
ready to tear into you the second you try it with me.
But then as I walk pass, the voices are silent.
No calls, no whistles,
I don't exist.
The dragon within me becomes confused,
am I really so ugly, so unwanted, so plain,
that the **** on the streets, the ******** who harass girls as they walk,
won't even look at me?
What's wrong with me?
The dragon fades and a new type of hate arises.
I hate myself, my stupid hair, my ******* up jaw, my plain appearance.
I should feel lucky for the blessed silence, the peaceful walk,
but instead I feel a nauseating sense of shame and hate for myself,
As I tuck my head down like a good girl and hurry home,
Trying not to cry.
Society has turned being harassed as a goal to reach for.
Keep telling us "it's a compliment"
And sooner or later we'll start to believe it.
But that doesn't make it true.
So I sit sharping my nails, not sure whose throat to rip out,
Yours? Or mine?
Because you've told me,
It's not ladylike for me to hate anyone,
Except myself.
Aug 15, 2014
Aug 15, 2014 at 12:32 AM UTC
"I'm sorry if your dad left you .
I'm sorry if your dad hit you .
I'm sorry if your dad passed away .
I'm sorry if your mom left you .
I'm sorry if your mom hit you or got hit by your dad .
I'm sorry if your mom passed away .
I'm sorry if you get bullied .
I'm sorry if you cut your wrists .
I'm sorry if you can never get sleep at night .
I'm sorry if you throw up after you eat because you don't want to gain weight .
I'm sorry if you cry in your room for hours .
I'm sorry if you get called a ****** for being gay .
I'm sorry if your boyfriend or girlfriend hits you .
I'm sorry if you feel like you're not good enough .
I'm sorry if someone broke your heart .
I'm sorry if you got cheated on .
I'm sorry if you're in foster care .
I'm sorry if you're homeless .
I'm sorry if you would rather be homeless because being at home is torture .
I'm sorry if you rake your nails down your arms .
I'm sorry if you feel like nobody cares .
I'm sorry if you feel invisible .
I'm sorry if you feel you won't be as " pretty " or " handsome " as someone else . But guess what ? You are beautiful .
I'm sorry if you don't want to be saved .
I'm sorry if you do want to be saved , but nobody is around to help you .
I'm sorry if you lost a loved one .
I'm sorry if your brother or sister has a mental illness .
I'm sorry if I've hurt you .
I'm sorry if you've been sexually harassed .
I'm sorry I've not always been there when you've needed me .
I'm sorry if you have to sell drugs or do them because you hate reality .
I'm sorry for all the pain you kept inside for so long .
I'm sorry if your heart is broken .
I'm sorry if you feel this way .
But I know that with everything that is going wrong , one day it will go right .
I care about you , I want to give my all to show you how worth it you are .
I want you to live , I want you to fight this .
I need you here .
All your pain is something that probably followed you everywhere .
I know that things are hard , and nobody understands what you're going through .
You fake a smile , but I can see it .
You think you're unloved , but I love you so much . I promise you're loved .
If you think it's time for you to go , it's honestly not , this isn't worth it.
I know you want to die , nobody would miss you right ? Those thoughts are all a lie , those demons in your head are lying to you . All those people telling you to **** yourself aren't there when you need a hug , they aren't there when you're punching walls .
They assume you won't do anything, they aren't there when you're breaking down , and crying , but I promise you'll feel better soon , don't do this .
Don't leave me .
I need you .
You're worth it .
I know you're enough .
I love you .
I'm always just a message away .
Stay strong ."
Sep 30, 2016
Sep 30, 2016 at 12:34 AM UTC
How have we come to need to pay for expression?
Perhaps because we get harassed and reprimanded by people we hold to be 'respectable'
(authority, parents, teachers, etc.)
when we're young for being wholly expressive
and so many people stuff it.
Then, those who don't stuff it seem somehow special or illogical for choosing not to stuff it.
Then, they're exploited by our glorious system to hand over the "rights" to sell the expression.
How do they expect to sell people that which originates from ourselves?
To sell people salvation from that which doesn't exist?
To sell them what they don't need?
To sell beauty? Happiness? Expression? Education?
In a word:
DECEPTION.
Jul 6, 2012
Jul 6, 2012 at 2:05 PM UTC
Harried, Harassed, Hassled and Hounded-
These are the H-words I work by.
Harpies and Henchmen, Harridans and Heathens-
These are the H-folk I work with.
Hubbub and Hokum and Hurly-burly-
These are the places I do it.
Hoodlums and Hooligans, loaded with Hubris-
These are the clients I deal with.
Heartless and Horrible, Hateful and Hurtful
These are the attitudes around me.
Hopeless and Hapless, Haggard and Helpless-
This is the way I usually feel.
What happened to Happy, and Hopeful and Harmony-
These are the H-words I search for.
Hinder and Hobble, Heckle and Hamper-
These are the Hamstrings that trip me.
Heaven and Harmony, Humor and Honor-
These are the things that I strive for.
Havoc and Hades, Hurt, Hate and Hauteur-
These are the H’s that I have to conquer.
Hope, Help, and Herculean effort-
Is How I will finally get myself Home.
ljm
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 12:30 AM UTC
I walked into a high school,
with one friend,
the only friend I made in elementary school,
who stayed my friend.
My mommy Doesn't like her,
I walked into a high school,
and my only friends older sister,
who felt like my sister too,
Passed away,
the school didn't care that we all cried,
I walked into a high school,
and I tried to make other friends,
and a kid got ******
and he stole my phone,
the police did nothing to him like the school and he later ***** a girl,
I walked into a high school,
going into a program with high hopes,
only for them to get shattered by those who didn't wanna deal with me,
because people didn't get things related to ADHD,
and I wanted to drop out,
I walked into high school,
and skipped the class,
after the one where the teacher and students all harrassed,
me,
because when I reported it, it was their word against mine,
I walked into high school,
and I talked to the teacher who would harass me,
and tried to make him understand me,
understand how I can't do things like everyone else can,
and he made me head banana masher and then I puked,
I walked into high school,
and Skipped that class for the first time ever,
because the teacher made me *****
be he was absent that day,
and I got in trouble for skipping and "lying about the incidence"
I walked into high school,
and skipped my classes,
and cried in the bathroom,
and cut myself,
because I couldn't handle my panic attacks,
I walked into high school,
trying so hard to make some sort of friends,
and they yelled at me every time I ******* smiled,
because they didn't want to allow me to be happy,
The school wouldn't let me have friends,
I walked into high school,
and tried to hangout with people after school,
and they just yelled at me,
made up lie about where I was supposed to be,
They tried to get more mom mad at me,
I walked into high school,
oblivious to what love,
***
or abuse was,
and the boy I was seeing ***** me,
I walked into high school,
on the final day of freshman year,
to take my final so i could get the **** out of there,
and they harassed me the entire exam period.
they said things of confidentiality,
I walked into high school,
and everyday I left in tear,
with a scarred body,
and nothing but fear,
and they expect me to wanna come back the following year?
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 7:11 PM UTC
What failures
oh the failures of leaving home at seventeen
of living and thriving as a minority foreigner
of working and studying to post-grad levels
of maturing wonderfully and being up and decent
of loving and marrying and creating a good home
of no crime, no debts, not a drunk, not a player
of no stained reputation, no borrowing or theft
of being easy-going, nice and friendly, an all-rounder
what failures
the failure of being successful and capable in grace
the failure of doing so well a white neighbor burgled
the failure of saying that's not right, you're rotten thieves
the failure of standing up to bullying thieving mobs
the failure of being gangstalked and destroyed
the failure of being an educated professional black
the failure of being a solid, courageous, wholesome man
the failure of knowing you can't do wrong and get by
Ladies and Gentlemen
these are my failures
Its all there in black and white
its the failure of being a minority
In the british democracy of the Socialists
for it is greed to work hard and be successful
its a failure for blacks to aspire and do well when your white
neighbor is a drunken, welfare dependent waster and thief
And Blacks beware, for if you dare tell them to go change
you will be stalked, hounded, smeared, defamed, humiliated
harassed, bullied, slandered, sabotaged, and basically driven to
suicide or a breakdown
They manufacture Failures to reflect their own failures
They call it Trading Places and dish it out to 'Uppity' Blacks
Aug 18, 2019
Aug 18, 2019 at 7:40 AM UTC
....................terrorism......................
I Opened my window and peeped through.
Heard the loud panicked voice of screams.
Just I saw the world of dreams.
People were shouting'crying'runing here and there.
Destructions and dreadful scenes seemed everywhere.
Streets were covered with huge blood.
Just like I lost in terrific flood.
Dark smoke raised over the sky.
War jets and gaints were so high.
When i glanced all the round.
And didn't believe what I found.
Street lights were broken and dim.
Everywhere laid down the corpses of muslim.
Muslim children and muslim babies.
Their white shrouds turned into red.
War jets bombed,killed,left crippled & then briskly fled.
Only innocent people were on their list.
People were wraping them and taking away by cist.
My eyes burst into tears.
By the thought of terrorism whom everybody fears.
The thousands of people are now lifeless.
And remained so helpless.
Taken away the poor children's future brightness.
with War,conflicts,disputes and violent fray.
Unjustly killed so many people also by slaughter and slay.
Everything for them is just like a game to play.
By the war demons everywhere,everybody is sad & depressed.
Why Only innocent people are being harassed & oppressed?
Violences and wars only left miseries and sorrow.
Nobody can imagin what will happen tomarrow.
that's such a big shame.
blaming only muslims and giving them terrorist name.
Why the Muslims are only labeled of terrorism and extremism?
Come and recognise the real face of terrorism.
In the name of religion why people usually fight?
open their eyes and turn them from darkness to light .
Terrorism has no place in Islamic religion.
It teaches the supreme wisdom with real vision.
I pray when will come in this world that day.
One person will unite the world and bring peace oneday..
.............
((((By shaffu))))
Alhamdulillah I am a muslim but not a terrorist.
Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 11:48 AM UTC
In seductions of ******
wisps of alarm, tongues fly
catching fire, their croaks
are red-headed matchsticks.
Intrepid hourly, the
blanketed white harassed
the appointed locum, the
cashmere buds of tobacco.
The open mouths adhere to
the King of Limbs, the
experimental corsages that
— bloom —
into existence.
There is a space between
all the noise where
my fetal poise can reside,
*forever holding,
holding on,*
forever holding,
holding on.
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 5:39 AM UTC
**~-~-~
Promise after promise
Fell into my head
I carried them with me,
I took them to bed
So hopeful, I waited;
To hold your forever
Intentions negated
This jaded endeavor
Yet, lies soon took shape
And doubt would take hold
Your dormant coercion
Cementing the mold.
You never came through
You never came back
The woodchips, they faded
The bracelets, I lacked
Trapped under my instincts
My innocence, vanished
The moon was relinquished
My purity, famished
Young as I was
I’ll never forget
The impact you left me;
Your stark epithet. . .
You took something good,
You found something pure
My will cut in half
Rose white, and demure.
The root of my psyche
You’ve yet to discern,
Who plundered my childhood;
My chastity, burned.
Existence forgotten;
Defined from within
I’ll never evade you
You’re etched in my skin.
Scar after scar
Fell into my arm
Your ink swam my bloodstream
Your slander, your charm
I swindled the rabbit
And powdered my nose
Freefalling in choices
Defining your prose.
With tasty white pills,
A hand in my throat
A liver that’s grilled;
The bible I quote.
With no one on earth
To save me from me
I sampled the bottle
From under our tree.
I cannot begin
Nor pretend to describe
What happened to Maple,
Who am I inside?
The loneliest girl
In the entire world
The events I’d mistaken
The chastity; hurled
All that I know
And all that I think;
Is this monster within me
Was born in a blink
But who’d tune in now?
The opinions are set.
My mind is jay walking
The lines of regret.
The holes in my person
The doubt I can’t sever;
My husk of normalcy
Braving the weather. . .
For what you don’t know
Is what you can’t nurse
Assumptions you draw
Are making me worse.
Conclusions concocted
Your story, enhanced
My path interrupted
Dismissed by a glance.
So I’ll say goodbye;
There’s no seeds to sew
For this is my truth. . .
Confession bestowed.
Still treading his words
That flood to the brink;
Harassed, used, and left
In less than a BLINK.**
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 3:08 AM UTC
Hey there my dear,
It's been like a "year".
And yet I am here
Trying not to shed tears.
About that mistake
you thought it was fake
But then it did take
your one life and sake.
I recall that time
That afternoon chime
I heard that a crime
was your death's grime.
Oh, could you believe
How your mama grieved–
That it has been thieved;
That your life had leaved?
And then there's your father...
No one could cry greater.
You said "See you later."
But later was never.
Your sister was weeping
with each step she's taking
each closer she's getting
your record of dying.
Your brother looks for you,
and he's asking me too
Why we're all so blue.
We can't tell him what's true.
I can't accept this,
After all you promised
After that last kiss,
I'll remember in bliss.
I can't accept that...
you're gone. It's fact
Us all (and your cat),
Hope heaven's where you're at.
I can't blame your choice,
I could not stop your voice.
You were with the boys,
But you were just their toy.
A first it was fun,
You thought you were one.
A brother; yet when done
No longer saw the sun.
You prayed you would last,
But that time had past,
Fate's vote had been cast.
Frat had you harassed.
It just was not fair,
I can feel your lost air:
That you died in a chair,
And they pulled your hair
They had you in a daze,
planned to have you a craze
You died into a haze,
Big mistake: the frat maze.
See the bruises they made,
None of them were your aid
You prayed you don't fade,
I prayed you just stayed.
But you left anyway,
and without further a say
Frat took your life away
on a cold winter day.
Battered flesh, broken bone.
Altogether, alone.
That call on the phone,
Hung a chilling sad tone.
And again, they did tell
That you badly swelled.
That nothing went well,
That into death you fell.
I'm not moving on...
you're gone...you're gone.
But your frat went on.
and on and on.
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 8:09 AM UTC
Hands up
So maybe they'll see I surrender
Under the foot of The Badge
My hands are up and I beg mercy
That this man doesn't pull the trigger
Don't shoot!
Hands up
So many brothers and sisters lost in this war
A bullet in me is nothing to them but a paid leave
My blood is just another stain
It won't cause this man with the badge any pain
Don't shoot!
Hands up
In the court I'm the sketchy one
But I wasn't the one standing behind the gun
Please God don't shoot!
Hands up
While we stand together in peace
And are accused of violence
Beaten, gassed, punched, harassed
This is war in these streets
Where The Badge and the black man meets
DON'T SHOOT
Bang
Wheres the peace?
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 11:33 PM UTC
I'm angry
I'm angry that this is the world we live in
I'm angry that I can't walk down the street without being harassed
I'm angry that I constantly have to think about how people will react to what I wear
I'm angry about the everyday inconveniences this world has made for me
But more than anything I'm angry that I have to think twice about helping an elderly man into his car
I'm angry that today there was a disabled man slowly pushing his wheelchair across the parking lot and I didn't help him
Because that's the world we have created
A world where we are consistently aware that even by being good we can be punished
I am so angry that I sat there and watched that man for ten minutes
And didn't move because how could I know that he wasn't another Ted Bundy
How could I know
We have created a world with such a deep chasm of distrust that I can't even believe that this poor man was truly disabled
As a woman I have to be afraid of a man in a wheelchair
A man who seemingly cannot walk still has the ability to terrify me
I am so angry
That I am limited
Not only by the things that I wear and the places in which I can go alone
But I am limited in my ability to make the world a better place
I am limited
And I am angry
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 8:24 PM UTC
To the men who have hurt me, both physically and emotionally. To the men who have sexually harassed me. To the men who have tried to coerce and guilt trip me. To the men who tried to take advantage of me when I was 15, the lowest point in my life. When I was weak. Destroyed from depression, from bullying, from the transition of middle school to high school, from anxiety, from blind parents and others ignorance. To those of you who knew I was in a ****** up state of mind, who pretended to support me when I was crying, only to run your hand up my thigh and whisper "I can make you forget about it." To the boys who abused me, insulted me, struck me, brought a suicidal teenage girl to the point of destruction. To the guy who didn't quite **** me, but who came close. Who grabbed all over me while I shoved and smacked and told him to stop. Who tried to get inside me without my permission and who tried to guilt trip me, calling me a tease and telling me to lay down and pretend nothing was happening if it really bothered me so much. Who tried to teach me to retreat inside of myself at human contact so I wouldn't resist. To every guy who approached a mentally destroyed teenage girl who was drowning in herself to try to get ****** favors, to try to get me to trade my body for drugs, to try to bring me down even further so I wouldn't say no. Because I did say no. I always said no and fought and nearly vomited every time a guy started groping, started making lewd commentary in what started out to be small talk, every guy that grabbed at me without my permission and leered and tried to grind on me without any context other than you had a hard on and I looked weak enough to force yourself on. I hope someday someone rips you all apart. I hope someone tortures you, tries to blackmail you, coerce you, makes you feel like garbage when you're at your weakest. Because as much as all of you tried, even this fragile, broken teenager rejected you. Fought her hardest to get away from attempted assaults and made it, clawing and screaming away from you. Cried silently as angry, mocking messages came in but didn't dignify them with responses. Ignored angry phone calls from multiple numbers and continued to live, even when you all tried to break me into a *** slave. **** every last one of you up the *** with a flaming ***** I hope you all go through hell. I was going through hell and you all tried to destroy me, to incinerate my spirit in the name of getting someone to touch your ***** I hope you go through worse. I hope somebody castrates you. If there is an almighty deity, I hope they curse you for eternity. I hope you all know that the girl you tried to destroy for your own sadistic pleasure is stronger than ever before.
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 7:28 PM UTC
The sweet smell
of patriarchy
in the morning
Don’t you hear
catcalls like birds
in the distance
Or you’d look better
if...
Maybe the sound
of a woman’s
nails clawing
her way out
of an abusive
relationship
somehow shunned
for being *****
or harassed
and finding courage
to speak out
His emotions
mean little
because masculinity
is strength
She can’t bench
and he can’t squat
a nice max
they’re weak
Engineer?
Don’t you think
there’s a better
career for a girl?
You can’t run
a mile
or for president
like I can
but in the same
breath I’ll tell you
the patriarchy is
nonexistent
Nov 5, 2017
Nov 5, 2017 at 8:32 AM UTC
My father was not good to his body when he was younger.
The smoking and drinking and snorting and fighting and drinking and crashes and drinking were not good for him.
My father was not good to his body when he was younger.
One summer, when he was 16, everyday he would take a bottle of wine from his mother's liquor cabinet, buy a pack of cigarettes at the corner store, meet up with his friend Mario, who also stole a bottle of wine, and together they would ride down to the river and smoke and drink and swim. Everyday, for a full 1970's summer they did this.
And now he tells me, that at the time they were having fun and they were not worried about money or addictions or the future.
They were just having fun.
My father was not good to his body when he was younger.
One day, in the dead of fall 1981, he and his friends Mario, Mark, ****** and John all got together at Mark's apartment on the corner of 51st and Diablo boulevard. They hit the town, drank, snuck into movie theatres, harassed girls and had a good time. They returned to Mark's apartment at 2 am and thought it a good idea to steal Mark's mom's new car. They decided to go to Reno.
Driving, as my dad put it, well above the speed limit on Highway 49, they collided head on with a big rig. There were no fatalities but my dad broke his shoulder and suffered a minor concussion. Mark's mom chose to not press charges nor did the driver of the big rig. The next day my father was back at work, refusing to adhere to the doctor's orders of taking it easy and wearing a soft cast, entrapping his left arm against his chest, climbing under cars, changing oil, and repairing engines.
My father was not good to his body when he was younger.
One cold winter's day, in December of '82, my father's ever faithful companion, Mario, picked my father and his dog, Wimpy, up and they drove over to a small burger joint named Big A's. My father ordered two bacon cheeseburgers and a large rootbeer. Mario got the same, only with a single bacon cheeseburger. My father father gave his second bacon cheeseburger to his pitbull Wimpy.
My father was better to his dog than he was to his own body.
Now, my father coughs himself to sleep every night, and has chronic bronchitis. His liver and kidneys are shot and he plans to not live passed sixty. He will be turning fifty in two weeks.
My father was not good to his body when he was younger.
Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 12:04 AM UTC
while trying to buy some durex
he trembled to his roots
this is just a sport shop sir
you'd better try at boots
half an hour later
fearing confrontation
i'd like to buy a rubber thing
with batteries and vibration
once more the lady scowled
while showing him the door
this is just a sport shop
and don't come back for more
i want some k.y. jelly
he whispered his demand
her patience now exhausted
manager came to hand
what's the problem sir?
you seem a little harassed
welsh rugby, shirt he mumbled
but i'm too embarrassed
Mar 14, 2010
Mar 14, 2010 at 1:47 AM UTC