Tag Archives: feminism

Fraternize

Facing an unyielding modernity,
Overcoming history that has been,
It’s time for us women to recognize
The power of female fraternity—
In a culture that ranks us below men—
And decide that we must now fraternize.

Let’s stand against female subjugation;
Let’s rise up and take to the streets; we’ll show
The world our dreams to revolutionize—
For there is strength in collaboration
And fire in the hearts of women, so
We must come together and fraternize.

We’ll wear on our sleeves femininity,
Apply our makeup like war paint and hope
That we will no longer be patronized
Under the toxic masculinity
That ridicules, sneers, abuses and gropes,
And forces us brusquely to fraternize.

We’ll suffer through being called ‘girly,’ lend
Validation in a slut-shaming world
Where male frailty can only criticize.
But it’s said ‘if you can’t beat them, join them,’
And there’s no making headway as a girl,
So what else can we do but fraternize?

Women possess ambition ignited—
Upward mobility is appealing.
So we’ll tiptoe into a compromise
With men ’til we women seem united,
Pander to them to break the glass ceiling—
And forget ourselves as we fraternize.

We’ll help some women but spurn the others
When they threaten our climb up the ladder;
Our pursuit of success will jeopardize
Our sisters for the sake of our brothers,
Turning vows into mere idle chatter
That hinges on the need to fraternize.

So goodbye to all the bridges we’ve burned;
Goodbye to the women we’ve forgotten;
We will leave them behind and demonize
Each other, shamelessly, at ev’ry turn
To stack up against men in this rotten
And pitiful attempt to fraternize.

The only way up the hierarchy
Is to accept the fate of illusion,
This farce of “girl power” that’s bastardized
Under the pressure of patriarchy—
Which leads to one pitiful conclusion:
All women have left is to fraternize.

Come, then, you spirits, and unsex us here!
Transmogrify us into what we’re not;
Change us into a people socialized
And conditioned to occupy top tier.
Women for women, or all is for naught—
We silence ourselves when we fraternize.

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Blood

Now and again we stand in the shower
and watch the tide of blood and water
dripping from between our thighs and down our legs,
spiraling with the water into a helix
down, down until it disappears into the drain.

Day after day, month after month,
from menarche to menopause,
we bleed,
the blood of ourselves
the blood of our sisters,
the blood of the women who came before us;
those who wrote the first words in our herstory: the past, present and future.
Women have it all now;
our diva cups runneth over.

We have it all,
in the same way Seneca Falls feminists were content under house arrest,
the iron-jawed angels enjoyed swallowing a force-fed ideology,
and the suffragettes were merely into light BDSM.

We have it all,
in the same way that a quarter of us have asked for it on college campuses
and we frequented back alleys in red states as a hobby,
and none of our sisters of color ever wanted to have children anyway.

We have it all,
in the same way we were justly honored in manifestos of friend-zoned martyrs,
and our bodies are territories claimed by the zealots of our age,
and non-consent has ruined presidential candidates’ careers.

History is content to spill our blood in battle with nary a second thought,
but the synchrony of our solidarity is stronger.
Our blood is our flag, but not of surrender;
we are fated to fight.
As long as we are predestined to an end not our own,
our blood will continue to flow,
connecting those women who came before us
with those will come after us,
the women who are not content to watch their pasts be diluted
and their futures washed away.
The cycle will not be broken.

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