A woman crawling out from under male domination. A poem.
Hello my dear friend slash ex-boyfriend slash occasional lover,
Something bad has happened to me.
I’ve realized
I’m allowed to change my mind.
I’ve realized
I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do.
I’ve recently become a feminist.
(i.e. I truly believe women deserve
equality to and
freedom from men.)
So, inviting you to stay the night has been troubling me.
Your visit vexes me because I know you expect sex.
I know it because of every other single time I invited you over in the four years I’ve known you.
Also every single time I came to stay with you.
No matter what we do or watch or eat or say,
sex is on the agenda.
To be completed.
But it’s more than that you expect it.
It’s that you believe it’s your right.
That when we meet
you’re entitled to my body.
You may disagree with me on this
But deep down I know it’s true
And if you were to look deep into yourself and into your motivations
you’d see it too.
Perhaps, if I continued to deny you,
you wouldn’t stop visiting me
right away.
But month after month
year after year
I’d see your face less and less.
The irony is that I like sex with you.
I enjoy being around you, period.
But I no longer want to play my designated part.
The role of subordinate in the semi-performance that is our strange relationship
The peacemaker, assuager. The woman without a strong opinion.
Now I am allowing myself the space to choose.
I choose
Moment by moment
Day by day
What I want for myself
And more importantly
What I want inside myself.
That is my right.
Mine alone.
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