She: A poem for women

In honor of International Women’s Day, I’ve written a poem for women, today.
I may not be a fan of much of the way that the modern feminist movement has become politicized – but I believe strongly that women are amazing, and equal.

She.

 

She is a diamond. She is gold. She is a ruby.
She is a treasure, a daughter, a princess.


Heed this, Washington!
You have politicized and ostracized her.
Lined her up in both aisles, stirred up her angers to float your own agendas.
I’m not just  calling out one aisle or one house.
I’m not just calling out the presidential, the judicial, or the legislative branches.
You are all users, pushers, and you play her like an organ, like a flute.
Your monuments are full of men. Your halls are full of men. And yet you use her to secure your offices. You dress her up in a pantsuit or with a protest sign and tell her what to chant.
You strip her of her voice and her vote. Meanwhile you pad your cushy office with her cash, while she forwards you calls.

She is a diamond. She is gold. She is a ruby.
She is a treasure, a daughter, a princess.

Heed this, Hollywood!
You have painted her, sculpted her, and cast her for a mold for your assembly line.
She was young, and beautiful, but you told her she was not.
She was pure and innocent, but you awakened and corrupted her – and told her it was empowerment.
Convinced her her value was in red lips, swaying hips, and some other color hair.
You told her that to be bare is to be in charge.
You told her that to be touched is to be loved.
You told her that the old ways are wicked, and that it’s good for her to accept your perverted gaze and your dirty intentions.

 

No, her innocence was not weakness.  Her patience and virtue were good. But you convinced her to trade them for love, but what you offered her wasn’t love at all!

Her beauty didn’t need greasepaint.
Her lips did not need puffed, nor her eyebrows plucked. Her hips were not too wide.

 

She is a diamond. She is gold. She is a ruby.
She is a treasure, a daughter, a princess.

 

Heed this, Wall Street!

She is not a demographic. She is not a figure in a spreadsheet. She is not of lesser value than any man.
You told her she has no place among the elite. And when you granted her a place, you used it to show her off as a trophy, as proof of your progress, and yet in the back room, you gambled her savings on bloated houses, and you resigned with her pension.


Heed this, Woman!

You are a diamond. You are gold. You are a ruby.
You are a treasure, a daughter, a princess.