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"Your words and actions might hurt," says this warrior woman for all who are born and identify as women, "but I am complete in myself, and don't need to prove anything to anyone."
“Your words and actions might hurt,” says this warrior woman for all who are born and identify as women, “but I am complete in myself, and don’t need to prove anything to anyone.”
To every woman (biological and identifies as) here – I dedicate this poem to you. Keep being loud, assertive and 100% amazing. Remember – you’re a fierce queen, born to rule your little world. Don’t let anyone take your crown away. Ever.
Happy Women’s Week!
“Your body is impure. Don’t come into my temples.” Your words don’t hurt me, not anymore. I’m bigger than your barbs, I’m louder than your fears. I stride ahead, anklets jangling. Who needs your temples? I’m the Goddess of my land.
“Relax! Why are you such a feminazi? On your period?” Our kind is put in dark boxes, lids shut tight. Can’t breathe or scream, we’re bodies for pleasure. Our victories snatched away, our success tainted. Don’t insult our rage. We’re not afraid of getting bloody.
“Another girl child? You’re so unlucky!” A daughter is born; loud perfection. She deserves the sun, the stars and everything in between. Who else will birth you, love you, protect you? If not that daughter born so many years ago.
“Remember, you’re a mother. Act like one.” I don’t live for my children, I’m complete in myself. I rise, I fall, I’m flawed in a hundred ways. The children watch and learn, they see I’m superhuman. And they understand their mother is human first.
“Girls belong in the kitchen.” In kitchens and offices, meetings and workplaces. We wear our crowns in labs and clinics. Suturing a wound, writing new code. Don’t clip these wings, we were born to fly!
“You should smile more. Why the bitch face?” I’m angry, thoughtful. I’m busy, I’m hurt. My body thrums with a million things I want to do. You weigh me and find me lacking. Now I’m a bitch? Oh, honey, I won’t smile to please your broken values.
“Boys will be boys. They can’t control their urges.” I met a man once. He wanted my body. I said NO! Silly me, as if I had a choice. He tore and he hurt, so I carved crimson on his raggedy neck. I always want to have a choice.
“Hey there! How can I help?” Wholesome masculinity, you fight alongside. Our brothers in arms, yell and rebel! We don’t need to be worshipped, just treated the same. As equals, perfect the way we were made.
Image source: Unsplash
I'm a proud wife and a warrior mom awaiting my certificate in "Advanced helicopter parenting". An avid coffee enthusiast. A physician in another life. My hobbies include reading and writing, then nitpicking what I read more...
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