You see a body; not a person,
Mind you, that’s above your comprehension
But a body-strike that-an object, a plaything
A dish to be sampled to satisfy some sick craving
Never mind that you don’t even know her name,
Much less her personality, her interests, but it’s just a game
To you isn’t it? It’s not as if she really has time to give
A damn, what with everything heaped upon her just to live!
Between the driving, and the career, the shopping, the cooking,
The raising the children, the endless workouts, the starving herself to keep looking
Just as skinny as you could damn well please, thank you very much! The night class,
The no-sleep, the three-minimum-wage-jobs-just-to-make-rent, but she’s just a piece of ass
To you, isn’t she? She could be rich, she could be poor, she could be young (but not older the twenty,
‘cuz that’s gross), she could be happy or sad, smart, or dumb, and you’d know this and plenty
More if you would just look at her face, or rather into its
Eyes, for then you’d see intellect, emotion, reason, anguish, anger, and not just tits
And an ASS. Which is WHAT YOU ARE by the way. Or at least what you become when you turn her from woman into statue, from human into portrait, from full person in to some
Perverted fantasy which you’ll soon tuck away, among the others. The ones brought
To you by the media barons: “we’re only giving them what they want!” (or have bought).
Or perhaps they’re not given to you, but chosen, selected, sought out, taken BY YOU,
By countless hours scanning magazines, the Internet, hell, even your “friends’” Facebook
Photos. Because, let’s be honest, if you really valued their friendship, would you look
At and think about them in that masculine, mortifying way? But it’s fine,
Because all other men do it all the time, don’t they?
You simply HAVE to look, and of course, talk about it, for what if they say you’re gay?
Seriously, what if? Why would that be so bad? Who you love makes no difference! And certainly to be
Stripped of your manhood is by frat boy nimrods is far superior to participate in their misogyny!
But it’s not just frat boys. It’s every-male-role-model-that-you’ve-ever-had. And you wonder
Why so many people think feminists hate men? (Which is a blunder,
I might add, of which I’m living proof) Culture says you must be woman-dating
Woman-staring, woman-baiting, women-trapping, woman-hating
Woman-raping, woman-beating, woman-rating!
Woman starving, Woman straining, woman yearning, woman needing,
Woman drowning, woman wanting, woman dying, woman bleeding…..
Woman struggling, woman striving, woman stretching, woman reaching
Out, woman meeting other women, women together, at last teaching
Each other, “Sisterhood is powerful!”, women awaking, women fighting
Back against everything they’ve ever been told that they must or mustn’t, women writing
Manifestas, books, articles, magazines, ‘zines, blogs, tweets,
Women marching on the streets,
Shouting, “I’m A SLUT! (AND PROUD OF IT!)”, “MY body, MY choice!”
“Revolution, Grrrl-style, now!” ,women together, at last, finding their voice,
Their means of resistance, their goals and demands, the chains that they all share
And that some have and others don’t (like race or poverty), intersections laid bare,
Like patriarchy before it! From diversity springs unity, but also acceptance: Everyone should care!
“Real men are feminists!” “Women’s rights are human rights!” All the progress made,
All that is being made, and all that will be made! And they say feminism’s dead! Forbade,
Perhaps, or maybe suppressed, because it is radical, this notion that women are people. But for all this,
Everything that women have achieved on their path to be seen as full people, you seem to miss
Its entirety. For where I see a human being, you only see a body.
