WATTMAG Issue #3

POEM: Little Women

"They wear too less,
They bare too much
Draped in sheer and spandex
Skirts immodestly spilling
Creamy thighs on display.
They fake too much,
They cake too much
White clay on their contoured plastic face
Yellow eyelids and black lips
Geisha dolls ready to play."

We loved sweat pants and ice cream tubs

Laughed at implants and detox diets.

We didn't need sparkly gloss

Or eyeshadows in blue ombré

To make us stand out and shine

We had the sunshine in our skin

And stardust in our grey.

But you called us black, you called us brown,

You called us lazy, frumpy clowns.

You branded us slim, you branded us fat,

The freckled, the flat chested, the tomboy brat.

You pointed at skimpy, airbrushed models

And said, "That's pretty"

Found imperfections in our unique individuality.

So now that you have us addicted

To insecurity,

To hiding our real beauty

With your expensive muck,

Now that you got us played,

How dare you call us dolls on display?

"They are coy too less,
They pout too much,
Talk in 'like's and 'whatever's,
They want equal work and equal pay
When they can't even talk proper.
Their pitch is high,
Screaming day and night,
Demanding divorces and abortions;
Blasphemy spills from their mouths
In the guise of feminism."

We ate taunts and toast for breakfast

And swallowed bullets for lunch

Just to get an education.

And if we still survived, you tried

To trap us with illusions of princes

And Swarovski slippers,

Which were nothing but cheap glass

Carved from the same ceiling

Which stopped us from touching the stars.

You gagged our mouths and cut our tongues

So we couldn't shout

When our princes burned us for dowry.

Now are tongues have grown back, but they are still out of practice.

Maybe that is why we speak in indecisive words,

Why we say too many 'like's, 'uhm's and 'sorry's.

You can mock and chide our vocabulary

You can accuse us of blasphemy,

But you can't stop us anymore

From raising our voices all day,

Because you see, we have endured much worse.

Our tongues have turned metallic

From all the blood and biting

AND WE HAVE ALL HISTORY'S WORTH TO SAY.

We might not be perfect, but we will stay free.

We are pre-mature women, because you forced us to be.

We will design our own destiny, we won't be slaves to your plan.

We are not Snow White or Cinderella

We are Pocahontas, We are Mulan.