i want more pink in my life
i want more pink in my life
a man once told me
proudly
loudly
declaring for all to hear
“i am not like other men”
women, gather round,
you have nothing to fear
i want more pink in my life
you can trust me
i want more pink in my life
i’m a good guy, see
but what am i -
a woman -
to take away
from this
silly
meaningless
nonsensical
statement?
this ridiculous claim
you make
in an obvious attempt
to lower my defense
because you see,
what you think
about the color pink
tells me nothing about
the way you speak
about women
when none are around to hear
or the jokes you make
at the expense
of human beings
who happen to have breasts
because you conveniently forget
we also have feelings
how much pink
exists or does not exist
in your pathetic existence
reveals nothing about
the women whose bodies
line the pathway
of your past
and how many of them
you were so quick to label 'crazy'
when it served you
to secure yet another conquest
you’ve heard the phrase
'silly girls'
too often to recognize
realize
speculatize
that we’re all too smart to fall
for such a pathetic attempt
at winning over our hearts
just so you can collect our bodies
like the toys you once played with
as children
and can no longer recall
instead, you dehumanize
recontextualize
mischaracterize
our loving open nature
as a weakness
for you to exploit
a flaw in our design
the maker undone
by one simple man’s mind...
Ha! - i’d like to see you try.
so let me lay it out
in a way you hopefully can understand
i’ll use simple language
after all, you’re just a man
you see, you don’t just need
a little more of the color pink
in that black and white view
you so desperately cling to
you need an epiphany or two
to undo
the brainwashing you’ve undergone
at the hands of a society
for which the presence of a Pussy
erases one’s Humanity
so try again, dear friend
man among men
to convince me
that you’re someone
worthy of my respect
because so far,
i’m wholly unimpressed
i don't want this body anymore
i don't want this body anymore
it’s too awful
too hated
too vulnerable
too weak
i don’t want this body anymore
these breasts
the weight of a generation
crushing my chest
leaking tears
for the women
whose cries go unheard
stretched past their limits
to feed the men
whose wrath each
undeservedly incur
i don’t want this body anymore
these eyes
that belong in a bedroom
or is it the kitchen?
i’m confused
should i already know?
or just wait to be told?
by those whose eyes
are allowed
to speak volumes
and with each glance
demand to be obeyed
at the expense
of the humanity
my irises
betray
i don’t want this body anymore
this ass
that begs
even -
or rather -
especially
without my consent
to be
eaten
kissed
grabbed
stared at
smacked
tell me...
what is the point
of turning the other cheek
when both
paint an inescapable
target on my back
i don’t want this body anymore
these hips
which lie or don’t lie
in their turn
dependent only on
whose eyes
happen to be watching them move
As i try
to simply go about my day
live my life
i don’t want this body anymore
this gaping wound
between my legs
that will never heal
from the pain
of simply being
so easy into break
like a bank
or some other
useless capitalist invention
into which
even more broken men
shoot their pain
and take what never
belonged to them
but should have
should have
been safe
i don’t want this body anymore
it’s not strong
not loved
not respected
not safe
not safe
i’m not safe
inside this insecure form
that feels more often
like a cage
from which
there is but
one
Escape
the failed audition
we share moments
we see glimpses
but the movie of our lives is captured
with empty film reels
and all the extras are too busy
leading in theirs
to care about playing a part
in our own
Lights. Camera. Action.
CUT!
change the script,
try again.
just start right where you left off
what’s my line? oh, that’s right
“why don’t you love me”
exit stage left sobbing inconsolably
will she follow him...
that part hasn’t been written yet
but just wait,
you’ll get to see what happens next
all this effort
and for what?
each moment gone
is lost forever
an unrecorded history
captured by nothing
more than a
behind-the-scenes imagination
a perverse inclination
to feed into the drama
at the expense of a happy
un-Hollywood life
you thought it would make you a star
all this pain
all your sorrow
you thought it would take you so far
but it leads to the same
dull end
regardless of the struggle
6 feet of dirt
bury the lives
we outlive
and the Blockbuster
each of us hoped to one day leave behind
fades to a black
that will never give in
my girls
My girls will not be called beautiful
... not by me.
My girls will never be told to act like a lady
or to seem vulnerable or meek.
My girls will not stay inside and play dress-up
while their brothers go out and compete for glory and respect.
My girls will never play second fiddle
to any man's best.
I will not teach my girls these lessons
no matter how much society rails at me to bend
I refuse to teach them their place
I refuse to acquiesce to the world's demands
instead,
I will teach my girls to shout
to make their presence known.
I will teach my girls to persist
to dismiss those who would advise them
to back down or give in.
I will teach my girls to be strong
when others believe that they are weak.
I will teach my girls to wreak havoc.
I will teach my girls to lead.
My girls will never find themselves
among the billions of women
who have lived and died in misery
under the thumbs of
their brothers,
and fathers,
and husbands.
No.
My girls will claw the eyes out
of the men who wish to harm them.
My girls will breathe fire
on the men who disregard them.
My girls will conquer continents
whose leaders promote injustice.
My girls will show no mercy
to a world that - for too long -
has been so recklessly pompous
and anyone,
anywhere,
who considers My girls
to be anything
less than human beings
will learn intimately
what it means
to be brought swiftly
to their knees
My girls
will fight to their dying breath
so that Every girl
everywhere
will finally be recognized
by every man
as a person
in her own right.
i never wanted this
i never wanted
to be this woman
to fear
and hate
with everything i have
everything I am
i never wanted
to be so broken
to still not know
how much of my body
is covered
in undiscovered
scars
missing pieces
of my soul
i'll be searching for
the rest of my life
and still
never be whole
i never wanted
to be homeless
in a borrowed body
i keep discarding
trying to get rid of the pain
of just remembering
your name
your perverse
claim to:
fame
in the history of:
my life
i never wanted
to be the girl
whose past
destroyed all promise
of a future
without
multiple suicide attempts
anything-but-empty
self death threats
a heart begging for
the bliss of
eternal sedation
fully aware
of certain damnation
a festering internal mutilation
of the soul
the heart
the mind
anything i could get my hands on
to stop -
because i couldn't go back in -
time
and undo the first moment
i never wanted
to be alive
cultural differences
shrouded woman
a walking corpse
draped in darkness
from head to toe
in this passive crowd
nothing more than
a gaping, empty hole
my eyes follow her person-less form
and i want to call out
to question
'are you aware of your bondage'
but then, i look down
and wonder...
am i?
dressed in too short shorts
and a blouse that is
too small to hold
the dreams i once had
for the way my life -
not my body -
would look
i don't know what her life is like
but i can't imagine it's fun or free
or anything resembling
the ideas i have
of what a real life
should be
forced to hide her face
forced to feel ashamed
to cower at the whims of men
and give in to all their demands
so that she never forgets
her place
from what i can see
any choice is withheld from her
but then...
every choice is forced on me
choices are shoved down my throat
by men who are titillated
when i can't take anymore
and i finally choke
begging for air
desperate for a breath
that is truly my own
i'm quick to be reminded -
by men -
of all that i chose
chose
in the cradle
with pink sheets
and a pink bear
and a pink labia
labeling me
before i could even walk
'woman,' 'girl,' 'female'
a curse placed on me
by the pink fairies
that decorated the pink walls
of a room that the men
who sold it to my mother knew
would confine my dreams
as well as my body
chose
at the age of five
watching princesses
get rescued and married
off to whichever man
happened to come along
and i sat there wondering
why?
chose
at thirteen
with a head full of cosmetics
and empty of ambition
goals or dreams
that were stolen from me
in my sleep
the moment i hit puberty
chose
the clothes in the girls aisle
of every store i walk into
that expose as much flesh as possible
while every billboard and magazine
screams
that women
real women
dress to seek men's attention
... and it's never too young to start
you -
at 13 -
can be just as 'important'
as me, see
all you need are these shorts
this ass
this bra
these breasts
and you'll be a real woman too
... whatever that means
for the barely-there women
whose existence is hidden,
choice seems nonexistent
but for women like me
whose skin is bared
at every opportunity,
it will be the reason
we are eventually committed
this woman has gone insane
they will say
they
father,
brother,
husband,
son,
all the men to which
'by choice'
our lives,
our very existence
is committed
they will declare us legally insane
if we ever refuse
to keep playing their game
by the rules they make up
on a whim
because they can
and they have, and they do, and they will
because they can
two women
two completely different worlds
yet now i think i understand:
two sides
of the exact same coin
forgotten human beings
weighted down
by the shackles of sexuality
that seem only to fit
the feminine -
aren't we so lucky?
where my mind goes in the moments i surrender to what i know
i'm terrified of my mind
the constant push toward the edge
only to pull me back to safety
before tempting me again
what does it want
me to want
what would it like
me to like
like
lick / lack
licking / lacking
licked / lacked
lay - good or bad
lie - either way
loose
lose
loss
lost
live
no, die
die
is that all
i can do
to stop
cease
end
finish
fail
this lie
i've been living
because the truth
is still too painful
even for a corpse
it cuts and it burns
through flesh and bone
until soul and spirit
are bleeding as one
bleeding into a universe
too full
to keep track of what has been done
done
what was
done
to me
done
and now i'm
undone
and now no one's won
not one
to escape my body
i destroyed my mind
to escape my mind
i'll destroy my body
and still
nothing will have been
done
my white privilege family tree
my mother hid her hatred from the world
took it out on those who couldn't fight back
her progeny
her children
her mistakes
she made one by one
four and three on the side
but she still wasn't done
my father hid his shame from the world
everything he didn't accomplish
couldn't
because he wasn't man enough
bold enough
daring enough
enough
to do more than survive
a pinprick's more than
the Jones next door
my brother hid his anger from the world
hid it behind dropped-out-of-high-school-
with-nothing-else-to-do navy blues
hid it behind a false sense
of self-importance
a big dick measuring stick
that still wasn't long enough
to assess
how big of an asshole he was
and, in more way than one,
still is
my sister hid her pride from the world
pride in being born into gifts
and luxury she never earned
pride in her own perceived perfection
pride in the world's perception of her
and the love it gave her
for the luck and the looks
the light skin and even lighter disposition
that kept her that much safer
and as for me? well i hid just about everything
hid from the pain of having no choice
but to claim the only name
that i'd unwillingly been given
Bernath
what kind of not-white-trash, but-still-somehow-trash-white-people name is that?
the lie of a name
Americanized
my grandparents faked
when they came
from nothing
a world away
and i still hide
i hide behind the words i write
behind my dark eye
lashes
and dark curly hair
behind tan skin
and thick hips
hoping i'll pass for something other
than what i am
so that my face, my body
my life aren't tied
to a people
i've tried
incompetently
to distance myself from
but somehow still end up
running in circles
only to find
that the poets were right:
you can never escape
what's inside
even if outside
is a ready-made
summertime dark-dyed
lie
from what i can see
white people are just cowards
hiding in plain sight
and i can say that
because
like it or not -
believe it or not -
i'm white
do not be afraid to cry
cry
cry like no reason is needed -
it's not
cry
cry like it's the end of a season
the death of your god
cry
for the women burnt alive at the stake
cry
like someone else is in control of your fate
cry
for the heart broken at thirteen
cry
for the child too afraid to sleep
cry
for the other woman your husband left you for
cry
like you can't take another step more
cry
cry
cry
my sister
cry
with the knowledge
that tears
do not make you a quitter
let not one more person
lie to you about strength
you know what it is
you have it in spades
your tears
are magic
in liquid form
your tears
quench wild fires
conjure unholy storms
healing and destruction both
in your eyes alone
the power is held
and the choice is your own
let live
or kill as you will
but always know
allowing even one drop to fall
with intention
with resolve
requires unfathomable skill
dishonest men chained you to the belief
that your tears make you weak
they do no such thing.
when finally,
you let the holy water you hold inside
pour forth onto unbroken ground
in truth,
my sweet sister
you are a goddess unbound