Tag Archive | Feminism

The Evil Counterpart

cat and mouse

I stand here before you




                       i  d.

I can’t run anymore. I don’t have the strength to climb
So I descend, from your pillar of shame
I scrounge for whatever bravery I can scrape from the ground, starving for what I have never tasted:


I look up, and there you are

Again and Again and Again

You present yourself unannounced, following my every move- mocking me. Taunting me. You stand behind a protective layer of glass, far from my reach, where my hands have the desire to choke you. And the desire to smother your face.

That is everyday
And yesterday.

I am afraid of everyday.

You’re everything I don’t want to be, are the words that roll off of my tongue, naturally
With truth.  And with conviction. Without effort
Or thought.

“Look a little closer”
She sneers
She snarls.
I refuse to look within her prying eyes…

Deny Deny Deny

Two fingers, which I have declared to the world by pointing them in a V, are now used to demonstrate the opposite of peace. They cover my eyes from what I don’t want to see, because I am at war with myself.

The girl in the mirror knows
I can’t

And you caused it.

Her eyes insist a kind of honesty I have replaced with animosity. The girl in the mirror has changed
The rules
I refuse to follow.
I refuse to look.
I refuse to engage.

She disappears behind a layer of fog I have marked with each exhaled breath.
Unable to see her
I find comfort.

Face your fears- we are told. And so I’ve heard.
But what if the fear I face is… me?
And who the hell was I
Clenching onto
Every minute
Every second?
In front of you
When it was all a waste of time.
Who are you to inspect my mind?
You’re not inclined to think like I
I and I
We meet with eyes
Eyes, which are the window to your soul
A soul, which you do not have
My soul you will never steal
For you are
The girl in the mirror.


(Photo Credit: annstreetstudio.com)

The Seamstress

Here she is
For you to look at
For us
To look at.
She is looking back at you
She dares you to look further
To look beneath a sewed canvas of skin
Which covers life within
A body containing trinkets collected along this journey
You call life
She calls fantasy
Because it’s always been better this way.
She stands upon a wooden stool
Holds her breath
And tilts her head back
To the fluorescent lights she imagines is the sun.
She stretches out her arms
She imagines her arms are wings
Wings she can use to fly away.
Her feet begin to levitate
She frantically flaps her arms
And defies gravity.
Her spirit is seamless
Her wings are broken
She falls to the floor.
She is pricked with a needle
A knotted thread weaves
In and out
He pulls
In and out
Sometimes catching the knotted thread
Between her open flesh
Every now and then.
She doesn’t bleed
Her body won’t allow her to
For something she doesn’t believe in.
She withstands the pain of the knotted thread
And her gaping flesh
Which absorbs the air she cannot breathe.
Still she stands
Eyes shut tight
Lips pressed tight
Hands clenched tight.
She leaps forward
And opens her hands.
Her fingers comb the air
And time holds still.
She grasps the needle
She can sew her own skin with
Skin, which is not tender and soft
But rough
Covered in sharp fibers
Splinters pushed into the skin of another
A touch, which electrocutes
Electric shock, which pulsates through your body
Channeling the message that
Do Not
The right
But you felt you had the right anyway
For the taking
Dear Sir:
Who I thought was kind
You are mistaken
I am Mine.
The day I bleed
Will be the day
I have sewed my own skin
With my own needle
Sterilized from the disease which you spread
And while I stitch
I will look back at you.
Now look at me
I dare you.
Now touch me
I dare you.


(Photo Credit: annstreetstudio.com)

Motion Sickness

Is a shiny pendent
He dangles before her

Back and forth
Back and forth
Back and forth

She’s dependent
Although she craves the other
Instead she dangles before him

Back and forth
Back and forth
Back and forth

He moves his hands
And grasps her
Flesh and bones
Shaking her

Back and forth
Back and forth
Back and forth

She wants freedom
Beloved freedom
Torn between him and liberty

Back and forth
Back and forth
Back and forth

Hypnotized and terrified
She can’t break free
Asleep, she wanders
Indecency has swallowed her
Loyalty to him has become her
It’s all she’ll ever be
Until the day she runs
And screams
Hears her voice
And awakes from his dream
The world
And everything
From continuing
To move
Back and forth
Instead she moves


(Photo Credit: annstreetstudio.com)

She Colours Her World

looking forward to spring

She often watched classic films
In black and white
Except her life wasn’t
Black and white
With shades of grey
How could
Be that woman
Dreamed she could be
In films
On that
Big screen
He tried to transpose
Into the
Big world
Where a lady is not a woman
But a girl
The size of the
Gap between
His thumb and finger
Sizing her up
Eyes linger
Until her knees buckle
As the result of fallen trees
She hoped to never be
To instead grow tall
Where he would embrace
A woman
Not a girl
We see in black and white films
But someone real
A woman in colour
A real woman
To colour
Not his
But hers
A beautiful world


(Photo Credit: http://www.annstreetstudio.com)

I am


I am life, the one you never wanted me to be. I am a breath of fresh air when you wanted to suffocate me with tyranny. I am virtuous, rising above your tidal wave of fury. I am remembrance of your memory often blurry. I am the sea, which washes away your cruelty. I am liberty in the face of your mutiny. I am honour, which dismisses your violence. I am loud in the face of silence. I am bravery, which belittles your intolerance. I am victory above your dominance. I am all of these things, you see, but you can’t because you’re blind to what this means. There is no beauty in monsters who shut their eyes, the ones who use truth saturated in lies. The ones who wipe their hands clean of the damage they have done; the ones who walk away from the battleground thinking they have won. The ones who use words with the intention to kill; the ones who use ferocious words for the thrill. Be on your way with your suitcase filled with belligerence where you can no longer harm or tarnish innocence. For I am not a feather, but a bird made of many. I will soar to greater heights, never weak, always steady.


“I’m tough, I’m ambitious, and I know exactly what I want. If that makes me a bitch, okay.” -Madonna

A man dressed in a grey suit walks into my office today and says “This client of mine, she’s absolutely crazy.” I hear this about 20 times a day. Yes, 20 times and I’m not exaggerating the slightest bit. Yes, we all get it. You’re the normal one and they’re the crazy ones. We knowww (this is of course what I’m saying to my sarcastic self as my conscious is rolling her eyes and the real me is smiling). Most of the time I don’t hear a word they’re saying. I just see their lips moving. I occasionally chime in with an “uh huh” and a “mhmm.” Today was a different kind of day. It was a day where I would put away my uh huh’s and mhmm’s and save them for a rainy day. What I’m about to tell you may shock you, may make you leap out of your seat, it may even make you shout aloud “No way”.  Alright, I’m being dramatic. Although it was a bit irritating to hear this come from a man who considers himself to be professional in a professional environment, I wasn’t at all surprised. I had the privilege of hearing this: “That’s not how a woman should be. A woman should be delicate, soft-spoken, you know…nice. I can’t stand women who act this way. It’s unpleasant and disgusting.” He. Didn’t. Just. Say. That.  5’8” of male chauvinism stood right in front of me. A real poster boy for female rights.  Weren’t his choice of words to die for?

“A woman should be delicate, soft-spoken, and nice” -gets me every time, every damn time a man opens their mouth. So I stared at him blankly, batted my eyelashes and smiled big, real big. He looked at me and said, “You know what I mean?” So I replied in a delicate, soft-spoken voice and let the words elegantly roll off my tongue-“Why of course Mr. A. You’re absolutely right.”  He couldn’t even tell I was mocking him. Kill em’ with kindness, I thought. Sometimes you just have to if it means getting through the 9:00-5:00. Unlike any other day, today I just couldn’t. I slowly unzipped myself and climbed out of the poised young lady suit I had been wearing and climbed into a strong, I will school your uneducated butt, suit. The suit I usually wear but am sometimes afraid to show off.  I was going to reflect the type of woman my mother and father taught me to be. I swear, if I were a chameleon I’d be the talk of the animal kingdom because I turned into more colors than a bloody color wheel.  The diva inside me was all like Oh no he didn’t.  I couldn’t sit there and let him walk away unscathed. I would be committing a crime. It would be a complete disservice to women.  Women in the corporate world constantly get hassled for being aggressive and are labeled as bitches for being strong and having an opinion.  I know this because I have experienced this firsthand. I was astounded and bewildered (all at the same time) by his pride in sharing his opinion. It was as if he had just discovered the 8th wonder of the world. He was explaining this to me, a woman who is 24, university educated, and sure as hell ready to slam down any bullshit flying out of his privileged male mouth. So that’s what I did.

I told him that his views are what is so wrong with society. Of course it’s important to be polite and cordial but why is it a characteristic that women should maintain and carry. This is one of the many problems with society- we have male bimbos reinforcing stereotypes we are trying to break away from and thinking it’s okay to voice them. At least I can thank him for his honesty…and his stupidity. Looking back, I should have thanked him for being the example I will never teach my unborn sons to lead by. After all of that he says: “Oh you shouldn’t be so offended”. This was the equivalent to hearing nails on a chalkboard. Umm HELLO, earth to chauvinist, you’re talking to a woman. How could I not be offended? Well you know what they say- Rome wasn’t built in a day. At least I tried.