a month is not equality.

i don’t recall when i
stopped saying
“girl”.

all i know
is i am a
womxn now.

not because i feel it,
but because
it’s what they see.

they treat me,
tear me,
rearrange me
into “woman”.

–am sometimes
“bitch”,
sometimes
“girl”.

never
human
or whole.

am told that because i am
womxn,
i am
worth
less.

and still,
I am expected
to go high,
to hold my head up.

as if I wasn’t fed lies
called
“equality”.

look.

if we were so equal,
why are we still raped by
the same mouths
that say
we’re revered?

if we were so equal,
why are our bodies legislated
rather than
loved?

if we were so equal,
why are we forced
to smile politely
and take unwarranted advances
as compliments?

the pain and triumph
of womxn
cannot be fixed to 30 days,
a month.

only in the west
do we try and
celebrate our
oppression
away.

if this is the equality
you give me,
i will tell you
to take it back–
that i will
rearrange it
like you rearrange me

–turn womxn’s history
into her story,
my story,
our story.

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