Our Fury Holds Centuries of Wisdom
This little incident when you pinched my tummy
And added "You are not that skinny"
For you it's a small interaction
But I will take it home with me
Will turn it into my roomie
A stressful and bossy one
This type that tells me how to dress or how to behave
And I will not understand where this anger comes from
Because he was just being friendly
I will remain silent because your friends told me I am being too sensitive
I am just overreacting
Until the truth finally hits me
This little incident is the proof that men are used to helping themselves.
In the most common and random situations
"I pushed you because you were in my way"
And in the most disgusting and horrific situations
"Well you should not have dressed this way"
Those small incidents remind me, and my sisters that we are less.
That the spectrum of what you can do to us is large enough to silence us for generations.
Next time you tell me how to react when someone touches my body
This fury is coming from my ancestors, my grandmother, my mother, the young me
Of being treated like an object and on top of this not being able to call it repression
Next time you are being told that angry is not pretty
You have been trained to silence yourself for their own comfort
But this indignation and rage you inhabit holds centuries of wisdom.
Like this poem? Thank Elia.
Elia is a human living in Berlin trying to figure it out, but she mostly writes about feelings. You can subscribe for free to her weekly emails by sending her an email here: firstname.lastname@example.org