I am told to be a lady

1. do not swear

2. do not have sex 

3. do not show skin

4. do not ask for it

as though exposing the cells covering my body leaves me open to be opened without my will

as though hiding my opinions and keeping my thoughts to myself means my mind will have its fill

as though the hickies on my neck are a scarlet A permanently there

as though the unobtainable unrestrainable actions of others fall back on my back for being bare

because its a high five for fucking two chicks and a swan dive for sucking dick

the imbalance is unbelievable 

the hypocrisy is inconceivable 

and the repercussions are annihilable

we had a discussion in class

on what we would want to improve about the bus system

four hands raised 

four girls appraised

four counts of ‘less harassment’

bullet points on the board

Expo scented notes of too close sitting

nicknames ill fitting

being followed from your stop

looking you in the eye when their pants drop

this is normal?

then my friend asked, for educational purposes,

how many boys have experienced this?

how many hands raised?

take a guess

you get called a lot of things, being a feminist

apparently its an illness that would be solved if we got fucked good and hard

but if that were the case, I’d be healed by now considering these standards fuck me every day

so no, I won’t shut up

I won’t go back to the kitchen, so make your own damn sandwich

I won’t sit down

I won’t listen when you tell me, ‘smile, don’t frown.’

because I can’t go two steps out my door without looking down and wondering if I should put on more

routes changed on my way to class

too avoid catcalls and comments on ‘damn, look at her ass’

and no, don’t tell me its a compliment

because I’ll tell you how good you’d look on your knees

and watch your patience be spent

how anyone can look at this and not see something wrong

I feel like Sesame Street

one of these things just doesn’t belong

maybe its my attitude

maybe its my mouth

maybe its the tears of my sister’s I’ve gathered in my palms

sobbing over the cries of her nine month old baby that was held to her chest while she was followed and grabbed on her way to the library

so shook up she didn’t stop to ask for help

and no one offered

but they’re just gentlemen, right?

holding open the door and letting you in first

so you can be knocked to the floor to give a blow job in return because he’s the nice guy

don’t you dare friend zone him

he’s a gentleman

and I am told to be a lady