Author’s notes : This is a poem in response to traditional patriarchy. I hope it resonates with the pain of women everywhere, and it helps men empathize to the human experience of being a woman.
I am not your mother, wife, sister
or your daughter. Nor am i a slut, whore
or shrew. I am half of you, yet invisible.
A Misses., amidst Masters.
I am torn because i want you, yet
i do not want to be of you.
You punish me for my sin of passion,
yet offer me delicious murmurs
when i promise it only you. Your gentle caress
is bestowed upon me only when I lay supine
only your gaze and your desire matters,
but darling, why not mine?
My greatest power lies in tears and sacrifice,
and I must pledge them – as my duty – to you.
Must I only be for birthing and slaving,
like our mothers before us, in this life ?
Or can I be a leader, a taker, an explorer
and still see that gentle love in your eyes?
I am tempted into cowardice
to win your approval, because i want you.
i cover my head in false humility to please you,
But isn’t it silly, my darling, that a scarf is my integrity?
That my skin is so alien when it spills out of
it’s confines, you feel helpless and afraid?
I am a precious diamond, you explain.
to be cherished by men and to be protected from them;
But I yearn to fall from this pedestal
and to stand beside you, with you. I want to be free
from these shackles of purity; To be shades of gray
and still be seen ; To feel the earth against my skin,
and the sun warming my hair.
Can you allow me this? ; to feel like you do?
To be bare chested and unashamed?
Shade your eyes from my imagined radiance,
For I am not a currency. I am my own,
like you are yours.
I am not your mother, sister or daughter,
but i am someone.
A Miss, amidst Masters.