We preach and we preach of a new society but all I can hear
Over the sermons of the enlightened,
Those misdirected passions of the blind,
Is the voice of my best friend saying,
“She acts like a guy, like she’s not afraid to be who she is,”
And the sermons are silenced with these words and instead a dull roar begins.
The dull roar murmurs many things in my ear.
to be female is to be submissive,
to be female is to be beautiful,
to be female is to receive and also to give, but never to resent
And the dull roar reaches a scream as it reminds me,
to be female is to be a caretaker
to be female is to be the femme fatale
to be female is to be sensuous
to be female is to be modest,
And the dull roar contradicts itself and folds in on itself and yet grows louder all at once.
We talk and talk of revolution but
Our flags are crocheted by hand and
We darn them quietly when they rip so as
Not to let the men see that we have done something imperfect.
We carefully correct essays to be gender neutral while passing them out to our classes
We insist to those younger than us, you are beautiful while not believing it ourselves,
We swaddle our newborns in pink cocoons of gender norms and we
Feed to our young the words of our own insecurities and we
Inject in our teens the belief that we are not good enough because
Somehow this is something we all believe.
The place of the woman has been somehow confused over time
Confused in that there was any confusion in the first place
Confused over genesis, why Eve came from Adam when
Eves give birth to Adam
Every single damn day since.
The place of the woman has been confused, yes,
Confused why it is not right next to men,
Confused why the place is confined by confusion.
And until my friend and I live in a world
Where her thought would be not unspeakable
Where speaking your mind and being intrepidly yourself
Is not a quality attributed to the male identity
Until this fierceness, this boldness, this security
Is something that men and women alike can share
Until we can quiet the dull roar and tell it
Just how stupid
And corrupted it is,
Ideological paralytic that it is we must hush it and
Destroy it with
Our own beautifully strongly feminine hands,
Until the day comes when we are allowed to stand in high heels and not be expected to be coquettish
Until the day comes when we may wear our short shorts and kiss boys without whispers
Until the day comes when we may fight our battles and not be called manly for that
Until that day comes,
I will be disregarding every sermon that preaches that today was the better tomorrow we were waiting for because
Today is not that quintessential tomorrow and
I am done waiting I am done walking I am done
Keeping the peace
I am ready to be me and speak me and be free
And still look pretty.