A Letter From the Small Child
We all look the same.
With a white ribbon we are tied
Together as one.
For what? Suppression of mind in order to blur lines?
I don't need it to fight this fight
But to rip this white ribbon.
A sign of purity?
All it has done is scatter dirt over me each time I stand up.
Each time I ask a man if he is a feminist.
When I walk alone at night with a house key sticking out between my index and middle finger.
Scatter. Scatter. Scatter.
I am a feminist.
But with these labels existing
Shadows and blinds
Suppression of our minds in order to blur lines
I struggle from the entangling arms of those that counter the lever.
If I am the smallest child on the see saw
The strength that it takes to push off the ground is overwhelming.
The other child needs to allow the transition to surpass.
The other child needs to assist.
To stop calling me little,
To stop holding me down,
Working as one to encourage the movement.