Essay of your Story

As I walk a man whistles behind me, he showers me with praises

Sends kisses full of venom and expects me to blush and giggle

I run away without answering,

Afraid of looking at him.

My mother taught me, it is better to stay silent than to angry them.

She said:

“It is not his fault he cannot control his needs like his ancestors couldn’t.

It is not their fault if they choke you while trying to hug you.

They do not know how to touch us.

Their hands are too hard, never gentle; they may touch our breast but never our hearts.”

And when I silently ask, she says:

“Our mothers endured so much for you and I

Injustice, oppression, rape

Just some of the things they had to bare.”

Pushed and overthrown

Mistreated and misunderstood

Used and abused

Alone and confused

Our heritage has been trampled on

Men have violated our bodies and minds

We are not enough

We are not smart enough, they say

We are worthless,

We are garbage

How can no one stand up for the injustice?

The cruelty, the poverty bestowed upon us.

It’s not fair, it’s not right for you to chain us.

To this world of these lies which ultimately condemn us.

We are more than bodies and baby machines.

You will not take my legacy away from me.

We have put up with you for so long, but I guess it was partially my fault.

My fault for not realizing that the mere sight of my completion arouses you.

My fault for not covering myself up so you’d feel comfortable.

My fault for not shutting up and making you feel smart when you make no sense.

My fault for being the woman that has to be raped beneath the stands

Woman, how can you let yourself be treated this way?

Can it be possible you deserved it, that you caused such acts of violence?

Against your mind, your body and spirit?

That’s what they think, that’s what they will say

They push out their own guilt, away from themselves and into our bodies

Until we’re suffocating with pain and rage.

I remember being chastises by my uncle for the way I dressed, clamming they would stare at me

I still went out anyway,

I have dressed in shorts and t-shirts, long sleeves and long skirts

Yet they called me names

If my mothers before me could use their spirits and minds to rebelled against them, then so can I.

My little victories, I show them with pride,

Because I dared

I dared to dress how I felt

I dared to speak what I though

I dared to look into a man’s eyes and say: no

Sometimes, you’ll be too much woman,

To beautiful, too smart, too strong

You’ll be more than just a slave,

You’ll be more than just a body to touch, more than a vessel

That makes a man feel less like a man,

They will coil away from you and try to tame you

That fire inside of you,

That fire that consumes you

Don’t let them put it out,

Let it be your fuel, your drive

Let them try and take it from you,

Let them try to crumble you.

They will find themselves turned into pieces of coal.
And as their world crashes you will turn them into ashes.