Take the heels off

Who are you
to tell me I’m wrong?
That I need to
take my heels off,
that I don’t have choices
because I choose wrong
even if you don’t know my reasons
you say to take my heels off.
Who are you
to tell me I don’t know the truth?
that I don’t know where heels come from
or the health effects from use?
I don’t need to explain
I don’t need to waste my time
but since you know what’s right for me
why not be honest with me, alright?
Tell me you don’t want my voice,
that my choices are wrong,
that you feel empowered enough
to dictate the way I walk,
explain to everyone that we
we have been brainwashed
that only you have awaken fully
and the rest of us
just need to take our heels off.

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Self identified

What is a warrior-
a strong woman
tell me what it means
to be a champion
tell me what you’ve done
to be number one
have you given blood
or just claimed the sum
of all the work that happens
while you live on
pretending that you know
something that we don’t
not the definition though
the word rewrote.

When the world ends.

And there was a world of possibility in this hell she lived, in this abyss of flesh and walls.

Dancing above the discarded waste, she swayed, she swayed to the freedom of foul smelling air.

Animal, beast, desperate wretch, lips painted with blood still fresh. The thirst thrust upon her

through yearning, longing, blasphemous desires. Whore caged and tortured, deranged and medicated.

Forgotten in the wreckage of days material long gone and spent.

Upon the scorched decay stood still. Savage.

The orange light of the dying sun shone clear over her ever changing flesh. Rebirth burnt its last remains.

True form and beauty let loose in reality of the feral nature near destroyed.

Natural violence through passion and flesh. Fire that courses like wind through

veins boiling the blood that thickens and feigns.

And there she stood, the only living soul, chest beating deeply, heart left to moan.

Eyes miraculous, glowing, wet with dew. As the beast is set free.

No bars, no walls. Free in the death, the burnt remains of suffocation, derogation, manipulation of the senses.

Dancing in the waste burning outward to deface the body once captured, once object-formed and standard.

Swayed she sways to the explosion of veins, to the remarkable chains, setting flesh to flame.

Cured of restriction ash falls from the skies once a danger like acid, like pills to the mind.

She dances in grace, in full form, and lace, she screams to the stars her lungs fit to burst.

Exploding like a match, heart swells with passion.

The animal, the creature, the truth and its master.

(September 14 2012)

I wore pants to church

I remember the days
when I had to wear a skirt to pray
those jumpers my dismay
but I wore them to school anyway.
I remember the days
confused by what I saw
not even four foot tall
not sold on what I was taught
one day I just woke up
saw it for what it was
and said I’d had enough.
I remember the day
I wore pants to pray
the nuns stopped me in my tracks
but I never once looked back
told them to call my parents
my mother on their side-the merits
of properly dressed females
but my father stood by my details
told him of my discomfort
that I refused injustice
that I would pray in pants
and he told them again my stance.
I remember the days
that I knelt down to pray
God on my shoulder always leading the way.
I remember the days-
Catholic memories
of standing up to nuns
and living comfortably.
I remember the days
only a little girl at play
when I changed the system
never needing permission
just God’s little vixen.

Declaration of Empowerment

They say men are dominate and females submissive.

They say men are in control and females in constant terror.

They claim that females are weak, incapable, and child-like in our inability to make competent choices.

They say we are meant for the softer arenas of life, that we are physically and mentally the weaker sex.

They have forced our victim-hood and mocked our survival.

They believe they will recreate the world in their image, but they forget-creation is female.

We will not settle quietly into their narrative.

We will not allow our oppressors to dictate our truths.

No, we must rise. We must resist.

Together, we as females, must correct the wrongs acted upon us. Together, we must change the narrative.

No longer shall we sit idly by while our oppressors tell tale of our inability to fight, protect, and maintain fully actualized lives.

No longer will we allow the narrative to be sold that men are in control, that men create our stories, that we hide in fear of their violence, that still we remain silent.

We must stand together to denounce these lies and twisted truths.

We, you, are strong, capable, and ready to take back your story.

Stand now and never settle for any narrative, but strength.

We are the creators, the mothers, the teachers, the architects of the future.

Resist, remove, and rejoice my sisters knowing even in this era of uncertainty it is you who will empower the next generation.