My Voice Exists, As I Am

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
I write because I as a woman was taught I was an animal whose voice did not deserve to be heard. I write because I must. I write to teach myself about the love that my parents never had for me, and I write to teach myself to love because this skill or talent was never taught to me. My writing is an act of love in the face of the despair that was all I was ever raised to believe in. I perform feats of magic with my writing, because it will take nothing less than magick to set all of us free.

Submitted: August 10, 2010

A A A | A A A

Submitted: August 10, 2010



I write because I must


Because I believed that it was my fault

That it was because I was fat

That if I stopped eating

Stopped moving and stopped feeling

Then I would certainly be safe

Whatever it was that meant anyway.


That you would have given me up for dead.

And therefore it would not be worth hurting me


That I would have given myself up for dead

A very long time ago if I knew

This was the price you demanded for my silence

Was figuring I was too far gone to try to rescue

The way men learn to try to rescue women?


That after a while we are too far gone to fight for

Or kneel to or to place upon a pedestral

That you would rather seek out those womyn who are hurt less

Rather cling to those folks who have undergone less bodily injury

In whatever lifetimes of trauma they have chosen to undergo.

we must not only want to heal

not only want what other people teach us to want

with an eye to maintaining or improving their salaries,

and installing the glass ceiling in our visions forever,

one more woman sealed into her plastic bubble,

her lobotomy signed off on, one more gone crazy or

stupid while the world cheers to have its

sexism reassuringly that much more sacrosanct,

its critique made that much more difficult and

its naysayers finally gone underground.

We of this generation must learn to heal successfully

Regardless of any action you choose to take or do not

Be in other words wholly independent of your being to be loved

Which is crazy in itself because you will be forever seeking

Those who are least affected by your presence

Will be forever seeking those who will love you the least

While those who love you differently or who simply

Refuse to love just the same as everybody else

Love you from the margins and from the shadows

As you refuse to notice us gazing out from there,

From here, from the only place safe to feel one real thing.


They have hemmed us in

They have called us animal

Dog pig and cat

Shoved us into cages

Poked and prodded items into our body

Of every possible description

And then demanded of us, ‘heal’

And ‘grow now’ and make it better for you

At the cost of we ourselves at times



Against our will and when we protested

Too heavily, over our dead bodies

By the hundreds of thousands.


We have done it

We have done everything you have asked of us

In order to survive.

YES I feel guilt

But mostly what I feel is rage

Because we cannot help you

If you will not let us

Because I still want to help you

In the first place

Instead of helping those who would love me back.

These bars you have erected around our unwilling bodies,

They keep yourselves locked in as much as they do us

Because we cannot heal

What you refuse to acknowledge that

We could possibly have this capacity too, and

So you have claimed this

capacity to heal only for yourself

Because we cannot give you what you

Refuse to believe you could want

Because they have made you into a monster

Who does not want to accept that you deserve to heal

After all the terrible and tragic loving you have done

When the eyes of the Authority in your mind was

Looking the other way and

because I am not a monster

I have wanted to help you

To pull you out of the quagmire of shame you are in,

I have simply

been waiting for your permission

to heal the soul in you that

you wish had died long ago because it

is evidence of your disobedience to the only God you

never knew, the father who taught you that love was weak.


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