I want to say a few things about the following poem. I think it’s important to state that the experiences of the narrator are real; that is, these things happened to me, and I know that far worse has befallen many of my sisters. So when I write in the language of anger I am, for lack of a better turn of phrase, trying to capture the voice of every woman.
I may not have succeeded on that point. I hope, at the very least, I open some eyes.
You think it’s some big joke, don’t you
This whole ‘male predator’ thing going ‘round
All the women crying “foul!”
No way no way all these bitches be telling truths
It’s all been consensual…
I was six when a grown man first touched my pussy
I was nine when another man tried; he did time
Another tried rubbing himself against me when I was fourteen
I’ve been stalked, groped, pinched, and intimidated by
Men who believe it’s their God-given right
To treat girls and women however the fuck they please
No thought at all beyond themselves
Say, aren’t some of you guys fathers?
Is this what you want for your little girl?
You want some horny creep breathing heavy on her face
As he sticks his fingers inside her panties?
Shall I spell it out in more detail?
I’ve finally had enough
Enough of the ass-grabbing, cat-calling, and mental undressing
Enough of having to carry mace to walk to my car
Enough of “Frigid Bitch” and “Filthy Whore”
I’ve been way too docile, for far too long
When a woman finds her power, and an angry woman will
She is an unholy reckoning
A rending of flesh and crushing of bone
So here I am, burning with purpose
and ready to unleash the fury of Hell