I dream of something that should already be done.

I dream of bonds like the red tent.

Solidarity between womyn.

Because when we were property that our fathers could sell,

And our blood was dirty,

And we were dirty for birthing their children,

We were put into one area where they could not touch us.

We used that to our advantage.

We bonded over bleeding and oppression

And how to avoid a man stealing what is most important to us away.

And somehow, we, as womyn, have lost that.

We have lost that bond of understanding who our oppressors are,

And what we can do to help lift each other from oppression.

So I dream this;

Womyn united once more.

To the young and old womyn:

Those with knowledge of today and the days before.

To the queer women and straight womyn:

To have understanding and appreciation of one another.

To the black womyn, Hispanic womyn, Latina womyn, Asian womyn, Native womyn, white womyn, and any and all minority womyn:

To teach and respect the culture of one another.

To the stay at home mothers and the mothers that work,

To the womyn who have a lot of sex and womyn who would be happy never having sex,

To the womyn who have vaginas and the womyn that don't,

To the womyn that shave religiously and to those who proudly sport body hair,

To the curvy, pencil thin, chubby, fat, sick-of-being-compared-to-fruit womyn.

To the womyn who can conceive and to the womyn who can have children of the heart.

To the womyn with several children and to the womyn who have had abortions.

To the womyn with "doctor" before their names, and to the womyn who had to drop.

You are no less valuable than one another.

You go beyond being beautiful.

You are more than your looks.

You are more than a decoration for society.

You are more than a "baby factory".

You are more than just someone's mother, daughter, aunt, girlfriend, wife.

You are a valuable human being.

And we as womyn, need to unit and remind each other 

That we are more than anyone or anything can plaster a sign of worth on.

That a lover is not what defines if we are worth anything when they cheat.

That a number will never define who or what you can be.

You are worth more than the stars can shout when they explode.

So let us return to our red tent holding one another up.

We are womyn.

We are worth more than words.

This poem is about: 
My community
My country
Our world


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