Not My Feminism

not my feminism

In which I get more specific about that “idolizing women is harmful” thing I talked about last time.

You ignore the horrors
My sex—
The so-called fairer one
Is all too capable of.
The violence.
The cruelty.
Let me demonstrate:
I was perhaps ten
When I threw a girl
Against a wall
My hand around her throat
Her pulse quick under my fingers.
I thrilled in it and said:
“It’d be so easy to kill you.”
Even with my
Ovaries.
I fantasize daily
About murdering the women
Who have raped the men I love.
(Yes.
It is possible.
It is real.
It does happen.
Your denial, your insistence that women are victims
Men perpetrators
It can’t go any other way around—
Silences these men.
Makes space for these crimes
To go on
Unaccounted for.)
I see the marks on my loved one’s minds
Not unlike the marks
My rape
Left on mine.
One I dream about
Taking her by the hair
And saying in her ear,
“It’d be so easy to kill you.”
Then beating her soft skull
Against a wall of red-painted brick
Until it was painted blood
Bits of skull and hairy scalp and brain.
Oh, the gore.
I would spit on her body.
Even with my
Uterus.
I dream of taking the other—similarly, by the hair—
And throwing her down upon the ground.
Catching her throat beneath my heel.
From on high I would say,
“It’d be so easy to kill you.”
I’d enjoy the crunch of her trachea
Under my boot.
I’d lift my foot when she was desperate for breath
Only to crush my heel against her face
Until her nose collapsed.
Crunch.
Even with my
Mammaries.
You deny the violence
My sex—
The so-called fairer one
So often does.
You permit it to go unchecked.
You deny the victimhood
Of men
So crushingly silenced by
Our shockingly common enemy.
You deny so righteously
You seek to hold us “fairer ones” like idols
And thus deny our humanity.
Humanity, you’ll find
Is capable of all that is cruel
Regardless of what hides
Between its thighs.
You are not the solution.
Not even a solution.
You are a giddy contributor
To the problem
Dressed up in all the
Seemingly
Right rhetoric
But that self-righteous
“Look at me”
Big talk
Is not my fucking feminism.

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