To the Male of our Species
TO THE MALE OF OUR SPECIES:
-A rant on gender disparity, by a flaming feminist.
Hi Men,
Looking sharp, you works of art.
But you were once boys who had to ignore a lot and were expected to be a lot and act as if you did not feel the complex spectrum of emotions that accompany personhood.
It was not and is not fair
it is not right
A woman should say something.
So, I am.
The luxury I have as a woman in society:
I get to say what I feel, and it is ok.
And, you Men, do not, Which is not ok.
It really bothers me, for you.
****program interruption
I mean, there are a lot of things that bother me about how women have been cultured, but there’s time to share that. About 90% of my material really, if you can call it that. Either way, but not now, my lovely ladies. With respect I say to myself, woman, I always honor you.
But, in honoring Melissa, who is more than just a woman but is such an individual me:
My unshakable value is reciprocity—a wicked great part of me.
So not now, mid-thirty, 5th wave feminist, it is time to take turns.
Also, I love you.
****back to the program…
Tonight, I am bothered for Men, and there’s space for that in me too.
Contributing to the imbalance, this fact:
I have no fear about saying when I am hurt, disappointed, rejected, jealous or whatever feeling that come out my lips first, and then into my head.
But there is for you
there is melancholy to that.
honest to heaven, sharing my feelings gives me no sense of vulnerability. It is a squishy sofa to me. Whatever I feel and say, no matter what: I will still be a woman. A woman’s woman.
In fact, this is the power in any battle that my sweet emotions give me:
My feelings out and free:
are incapable of being turned into weapons to use against me.
And I know it.
That is my privilege:
The unshakable confidence of knowing,
Innately knowing
That my tender insecurities are valid
They are beautiful
They are significant.
I am that woman,
My soul you can see
Now,
correct me if I am wrong:
but that is a person Men do not get to be.
Which, I mean, just profoundly bothers me.
These words get to be:
exactly what I feel and believe
You know, my words, I always can be,
and it changes nothing about me
because I am a woman
This imbalance bothers me.
For you.
Men,
You stoic, strong, protectors of Me.
Me, the spitfire can of “That Girl’s Got Moxie”.
Me, with enough charisma to knock down a tree.
Me, who can talk just to talk,
with diplomacy
and comedy
and camaraderie.
Very tenderly
Me, who feels entitled to just makes sounds
like a siren song:
my sentences long…
and I bulldoze with them too
As if no one has the power to stop me
from what I want to do.
Confession: That’s Not true
Men do
Wish it were not true
But only men do.
Yes, only they could make me surrender victory on my war path…
With something simply soul-stopping like the sound of their laugh.
The most significant to me,
Can capture and hold the deepest part of me,
and I know that.
Ah, there it is…
that is where you can find my vulnerability
A Man can change the speed at which my heart beats, by just standing close to me.
With a deep look in their eye, I could just die
Only a man can create longing in me,
That testosterone, masculine energy:
Aches and whittles me down
To the most feminine delicate crystalline version of me—so radiant, yet so soft:
That I am a cloud floating on a flower petal sea.
So real, this feeling—at the nucleus of me.
A Man:
My potential complementary color.
Honestly, my words to you, are for you:
Because I am feminine grace.
Expressed Face to Face and it is comfortable,
Because speaking my heart song is what I get to do.
And you,
Yes, soul stirring you,
Gets me so weak in the knees, I bleed.
You, the Contrast of she
Need to absolutely know, that you get to be
A human, to me.
A real, flawed human.
You lovely human.
My Equal Human.
You get to feel things and show it.
All the bad and all the good.
All of them.
Every single one is fair game.
They are yours to explore authentically and openly.
If you want to.
I want you to.
And you can be:
all the brave things
and reveal all the sad things
and fail at all the life things
and unhealed of all the sharp things
AND you will still be the muse
That moves me.
A Man:
Can melt my stone defense into a plate of butter,
With a small hint of your cologne
Mixed with your intoxicating pheromone.
You will still, no matter how much I resist,
Hold the key to incite passion in me.
So much passion in me.
So much desire
Mingled with a pure sense of safety.
You are to me.
Even though, I know, you are
The only one who can crack till I am paralyzed
Right front the center of my bones.
The world without you,
To me, is not home
And That scares me witless
This scrappy, clever girl.
Undefeated Woman:
Completely Witless
I unabashedly admit that.
Because as a woman I get to,
Which bothers me, for you.
Because you
Should get to say that too.
I want that for you.
And I wish you knew
I see you
I want that for you.
All of you.
Perhaps someday, I hope,
When you can finally speak your feelings and truth
That you also choose words that validate me,
As I validate you.
Words that say from you:
That I, as a woman: do to you, what you do to me.
And in that
You see that there are things,
because I am a woman,
That are also unfairly painful to me.
And I hope with every fiber of my femininity.
That the pain of this reality from the perspective of me:
Is really seen.
And I dream,
That you believe me, when I say my Challenges I as a woman, because I’m a woman
Are not just real for me, but also true.
There are things, that I also do not have the privilege to just do:
Just like you.
I hope that information is incredibly bothersome to you.
And you know some Man should say something about it,
so you do.
-Melissa
