Showing posts with label sexism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sexism. Show all posts

💜💜💜122: In a house with lacey white curtains

In our house with lacey white curtains
and a living room with flowers
- fresh, frail, framed, or fake -
laces and florals were expected
to be displayed at all times
in appearance, and in character.

In our house with lacey white curtains,
girls are to play with fashionistas, not action figures;
as if skirts and shields are mutually exclusive,
as if Barbies and Batmans aren't just dolls
with different styles and accessories.

In our house with lacey white curtains,
my ability to walk face forward in heels
with a dictionary on my head is more important than facing a heel
head on in a combat.

In our house with lacey white curtains,
my womb is reason enough to carry a life
but not to determine my own.

In my house with lacey white curtains,
I am not made of lace and flowers.
And my womb is my internal tomb.


2021-03-26 8.11pm



In our house with lacey white curtains
and a living room with flowers
- fresh, frail, framed, or fake -
laces and florals were expected
to be displayed at all times
in appearance, and in character.

In our house with lacey white curtains,
girls are to play with Barbies, not Batman;
as if skirts and shields are mutually exclusive,
as if Barbies and Batmans aren't just dolls
with different styles and accessories.

In our house with lacey white curtains,
my ability to walk face forward in heels
with a dictionary on my headis more important than facing a heel
head on in a combat.

In our house with lacey white curtains,
my womb is reason enough to carry a life
but not to determine my own.

In my house with lacey white curtains,
I am not made of lace and flowers.
And my womb is my internal tomb.


2017-09-16 7.11pm

---

In a house with lacey white curtains
and a living room with flowers
- fresh, frail, framed, or fake -
laces and flowers were expected
to be displayed at all times
in appearance, and in character.

In a house with lacey white curtains,
girls are to play with Barbie, not Batman;
as if skirts and shields are mutually exclusive,
as if Barbies and Batmans aren't just dolls
with different styles and accessories.

In a house with lacey white curtains,
my ability to walk face forward in heels
with a dictionary on my head
is more important than facing a heel
head on in a combat.

In a house with lacey white curtains,
my womb is reason enough to carry a life
but not to determine my own.

In a house with lacey white curtains,
I am not made of laces and flowers.
And my womb is my internal tomb.

2017-04-01, 12.18pm

(during Baraka Blue workshop at Rumah Khizanat)
posted from Bloggeroid

117: cur(se)few

TW

i wouldn't be stupid enough to be out past midnight by myself
-- why ask for trouble?
but when i have to,
every gaze from a passerby
every puff of smoke from somewhere close by
every catcall
every chuckle
every shadow
every footstep
every flickering light
every creaking sound
every freaking thing
is amplified like i'm walking through a dark, icy cave.

the temperature doesn't drop,
but i subconsciously wrap myself
with my arms and with my prayers
as i try to make sure i haven't lost my voice
-- in case i had to scream
and i glance down to see that no shoelace is untied
-- in case i had to run
and with a cellphone in one hand
and whatever i could get in the other,
i pick up pace at every corner
i lock the door as soon as i'm inside,
and with blood raging through my veins in anger
and my heart pounding so hard out of fear
it pains me to realise
why i don't go out past midnight,
and why
for those who don't have a choice but to endure this
every. single. damn. day,
they're told
that they're asking for it.

2017

---


i wouldn't be stupid enough to be out past midnight by myself
-- why ask for trouble?
but when i have to,
every gaze from a passerby
every puff of smoke from somewhere close by
every catcall
every chuckle
every shadow
every footstep
every flickering light
every creaking sound
every freaking thing
is amplified like i'm walking through a dark, icy cave.

the temperature doesn't drop,
but i subconsciously wrap myself
with my arms and with my prayers
as i try to make sure i haven't lost my voice
-- in case i had to scream
and i glance down to see no shoelace is untied
-- in case i had to run
and with a cellphone in one hand
and something lethal in the other,
i pick up pace at every corner
i lock the door as soon as i'm inside,
and with blood raging through my veins out of anger
and my heart pounding so hard out of fear
it pains me to realise
why i don't go out past midnight,
and why
for those who don't have a choice but to endure this
every. single. damn. day,
society tells them
that they're asking for it.

---

- Izzaty | #YesAllWomen | 29/5/2014 | 11.30am

58: why i am a feminist

i am a feminist
because
They keep reminding me
by touch
by humour
by education
by interaction
by observation
by prescribed obligations
that
it's a man's world out there,
and men and women
i am told
are as different as night and day
and we need to RESPECT that
men are the decision-makers --
women should only be drones --
because women can't lead, only follow;
we need to just stfu because we're hollow,
and if we disagree,
they'll make damn sure there'll be sorrow
because we're only good if we can blow,
right?

no,
i don't hate men.
i just don't trust them.

22: It's a Girl/Thing

Silly thing,

Girls can't climb trees
or play with ladybugs
or chase chickens
or arm-wrestle!

Girls must cook things
and do house chores
and be pretty
and just listen!

Silly thing.

12.11am