She’s eighty-nine
and now she tells the story of rape,
of giving up a panopoly of dreams
for the baby boy.
(Shot gun wedding)
Love and happiness can’t be forced,
like sex.
Society forced her silence,
condemned divorce,
when she refused abuse,
and sought in the ashes of her dreams
for a phoenix.
Bitter choices,
dream fragments,
cobbled into a life,
grumbled about now.
Dream stealing beast,
a boy who wouldn’t hear no,
seven decades of curses
don’t erase the bitterness
of loss.
.
.
(true story)
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sharing July 24, 2017
Tags: assault, feminism, violence, women
Being A Girl: A Brief Personal History of Violence
I wonder how many women do not have these stories in their lives? I suspect there are few if any. We acknowledge these stories, but so rarely bother to stand up to them, because they are ubiquitous. I am glad to see the light being shone on them and the label being attached. Yes, these are assaults. Yes, this is violence. This is why some cultures are so protective of girls, but why, why, why can’t the blame be put entirely where it belongs- on the perpetrators of this violence?
Perhaps because that requires us to look at our own dark natures?
I was recently reading an article that talked about the passive label like “Violence against women” as if there is no agent acting. Where does that violence come from? Not the ether. Let’s label the agents, not the objects of the action.
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