Self Expression

This poem is about the restrictions of gender on the "girl child". The weight and burden of gender roles.

"Little girl. Listen.  

Listen up.   

Look pretty.   

That is your hobby now.   

That is your main concern.   

Also cooking.   

It is vital you love cooking   

And vital you're so good at it.   

Bottle up your frustration   

And pour it into a bowl of batter   

Powder it with foundation   

Scrub it out it out of you.   

Your only self expression   

Is related to your ability to do  

And look pretty while you do,   

Sweet cheeks.   

Oh archery?   

No, girls don't do that." 

The respectability of it all   

So much forcing, and suggesting   

And advice and explaining   

Explaining why it makes sense  

"It for sure makes sense we don't share equally

That we reward ourselves the most resources

Thats the holiest way to exist, it makes sense"

That violence violence violence  

At every level  

Orchestrated to keep   

Keep power   

Keep resources   

Keep land   

Keep wealth   

And you babes don't worry about it  

Don't worry your silly little head   

We'll take care of the big scary bills   

Money is our thing, we'll work  

You just cook, clean, fuck me, therapise me, mother me, do my laundry, administrative duties and whatever it means to be a good wife or girlfriend"   

You really used the word wife when you meant pretty maid baby maker and wet nurse   

And crowned your real partners the ones that helped you make money.   

And the more you made with your business partners.  

The more you justified your hideous and heinous behaviour   

I'm sickened  

Sickened   

Sickened  

At the mere thought   

Of all the people in this world   

That have been squeezed   

With all the above mentioned assumptions   

Forced down their throats  

Gender roles forced down our throats   

Its wicked.

And today

And tomorrow

I pull myself free from it.

Agender.

A gender?

I flee from it.