Anonymous
Wikimedia
On this past day to celebrate women,
When those who fight for equality
wear pointed pink hats
with pride,
I was confronted too by a young,
misogynistic man,
Not much older than I.
I was, and still am, a fifteen-year-old female who considered herself
A feminist.
An unaged boy showed off smile lines and waved,
so naturally I adorned him with the very same,
He wasn’t here to make small talk,
he was here to take away
My pride,
My essence,
My perspective,
My voice,
My confidence,
My understanding of my value in life.
If the likes of RBG are my own superheroes,
He is the villain of my story.
We’ve talked almost every time I’ve seen you.
We don’t facetime or text, but
we have inside jokes and nicknames only the two of us find funny.
But, your words hurt my heart and tarnished my soul.
Your words were unapologetic and problematic as you saw no consequences for your actions.
You have no right to take away a part of me, but
I let it happen as fear instilled my core.
You sprawled it out for everyone to see,
out of nowhere, no context,
“You are no such feminist. You don’t deserve to have a tongue.”
Words, these very words, sprawled out my ambitions for examination.
I am a feminist.
But at this very moment,
I was a quivering girl whose mind raced.
I didn’t speak,
I didn’t move,
I processed.
I am no feminist if I don’t speak up for myself.
No one is a feminist if we don’t speak up for each other.
This is me,
reclaiming my voice.
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