Tag: women

International Women’s Day. (Late)

I wish the women of the Congo

or Afghanistan or China or South Africa

didn’t need feminism and could stand

up on a pedestal with you because

you happened to win the geographical lotto.

Dismissing a whole way of thinking,

that could make lives better, isn’t

so easy when you’re living in the rape

capital of the world, being forced to

marry a stranger or being denied

sexual pleasure through mutilation.

If you put on your blinders, feminism

might seem like a relic of the suffragettes

which isn’t needed in your individual

experience. It’s nice you can walk

to Starbucks, spend your disposable

income on empty calories and feel

safe. Then you can go home to your

£400 laptop and even though you

have a more global view than anyone

else in history, you will still tweet about how

feminism is evil as if you’re

more important than other women.

Even if we shrunk it back down to our small island,

equality is still a delusion; these problems

are on our doorstep and, sure, if you put

your fingers in your ears then you can

block out the cries for help from the

four women next to you who have experienced

sexual violence and listen to how

the pay gap is a myth as if that’s the

most pressing issue. You can laugh

at feminists, ride your high horse

above them all the way to the ballot

box, trampling those girls whose families

are holding them back from democracy

because they happened to be born with

breasts. You can tip-ex the 19th of

November out of the calendar and cry

every year about how there’s no day

set aside for men instead of educating

yourself and working to promote male

issues but that might be too much like

activism and you don’t want to be

confused for someone who cares too

much.

Or you can accept that power is not

absolute, suffering is not exclusive

to you and feminism is not a

global view. You drew a lucky hand

in the social poker game

and instead of playing your cards

to your chest you can share

them round so every woman

get’s to draw for herself. You

got to decide you didn’t need

feminism which is only possible

because of the work of those

women you seem to disregard.

You don’t have to call yourself

a feminist, because it’s all about choice.

but

If we all worked together, women

and men, on this one day instead

of turning our nose up at preconceived

notions then maybe, one day,

every woman can say: 

“I don’t need feminism too.”

– Francesniff

First Impressions

The nostalgia gets knocked out of me,
when you walk into the room.
Has it really been two years since
I wanted you too much for too long?
The memories of you wrapping me
around your finger and then cutting it off
come back to me. You never replaced
the affection I gave away so freely
and it sucked me dry at the age of 15.
I try to hide the bitterness behind my eyes,
after all I’m sure being away at university
has honed your repartee and wit.  
My only problem is, I see now,
you’re just really not that fit.

It took me a minute to place you.
You were always clouded in a haze
of puppy love and high expectations.
The hedonism of higher education
has dulled my sense of the past;
everything in this town feels different
somehow. Time has softened the edges
of our interactions and space puts you
in a whole new light. You’ve filled out,
filled in the requirements and I can fill
your time with mine. Maybe I should give
you my phone number because,
oh god, you’ve gotten so fit.

Your jaw has dulled over time,
rugged rocks worn down.

Your cheeks are flushed,
highlighting those high bones.

Your nose has bumps and blemishes,
that I never noticed before.

Your hair makes my hand want
to dive in and curl you round my little finger.

Did your university days fill you out?
Or was I imagining an Adonis in your shoes?

Did you have that femme fatale physique
before, or is it a new addition?

You used to be my ideal model, the epitome of
teenage adoration, but the cracks are starting to show.

You used to be unrequited in my mind, I was your
half-boyfriend and you weren’t half-bad. But now?

I shift my gaze away from you,
I look eagerly at this woman in front of me
tear the paper in my hands,
try and gather dutch courage,
not wanting the awkward conversation.
desperately wanting to ask you out.
There was a time when I would beg for a scrap of your affection,
I made you work so hard for this moment,
my rose tinted contact lenses stuck in my eyes.
I owe you so much and plus there’s a bonus for me,
But now, you’re just really not that fit.
because, oh god, you’ve gotten so fit.

As performed by Domestic.

 – Francesniff