I'm Renee. Creative Writing student at Cal State Long Beach. My photos, my writing, fashion and other things I like. Stick around, yeah?
"And You Claim You’re Not Privileged"
I don’t want to have to walk to my car
with my keys clenched between two fingers
because it’s illegal to carry a knife.
I shouldn’t have to check under my car
when I get off work after sunset
and accessorize with a can of mace
and brass knuckles shaped like a little cat,
but at least I’ll look cute when I’m fending him off.
I’m sick of hearing “But she was asking for it,
going out dressed like that.”
Because first of all, nobody’s asking for that.
Nobody’s asking for the trauma and the guilty feeling
that it may have been her fault
that her dignity was torn away like her skirt.
And second of all, by that logic,
your face is asking for me to bury my fist in it.
When it comes to dating, a man’s greatest fear
is meeting someone overweight or with leg hair.
Women fear meeting a psychopath.
We need to talk about how a dedicated woman
is a “try-hard” who’s doing it for attention;
because why would women like comics or sports
unless it’s for the sake of a man’s second glance.
And if she doesn’t like them, and just wants to wear
that Iron Man shirt because it looks cool, she’s a fake.
They think that if she can’t name all nine albums
and the birthday of every member and their mother,
she doesn’t really like Metallica, she just wants
people to think she’s “cool.”
I’m done with being told my anger is cute
while an cross old man “gets stuff done.”
I’m bossy and annoying, he’s assertive and a leader.
It’s why only 4.6 percent of Fortune 500 CEOs
and only one fifth of senators are women.
Why is it necessary for me to cross my ankles
and cover my shoulders and my legs
like they’re repulsive and vulgar
while men can flaunt their pot-bellies
and chest hair?
Call me a feminazi, call me anything you want,
but that won’t change the 22 cent wage gap
and the “cool story babe” shirts in the shop windows,
and it won’t change that every word of this is true
And finally, if men aren’t sharks who can’t resist
a slab of exposed flesh dangled in their face,
why have I worn less in a cage dive?