[gender equality poem- if you decide to hate, well, that’s a you problem, this is slam poetry, kinda meant to be spoken aloud]

Teacher, teacher calls out to you,

looking at your shirt, “I can see

your shoulders, so can the boys.”

So? I cover up? I’m not one of their toys!

What if it’s hot outside? What if I’m burning?

So, I cover up, just to keep their eyes from turning?

Teacher, teacher, don’t you care?

It doesn’t matter if you

have a little authority,

as a woman, as a girl,

as someone who can bring

people into this world-

men are better.

But why?

A lot of people claim

it’s because they think

with their lower region,

but I think it’s because

they’ve never seen real pain.

Well, today’s the day!

Pay attention this season,

hear what I have to say!

Women create children,

but not without a man’s help.

So men take the joy in it,

leave only blame, pain, for the girl.

I’m sorry- but what’s with this world?

Ah- women bleed, that’s it, isn’t it?

We bleed so we can produce,

and so we’re filthy.

Doesn’t matter if we do our jobs

skillfully-

because we are in pain,

so we can’t do our jobs-

but we don’t get stupid days off.

We can’t do our jobs because

we have emotional runnings

when we’re bleeding and bleeding,

and we don’t get days off.

And when they push a watermelon

through a freaking cheerio,

Men still say that getting kicked

in the crotch hurts much worse.

Look at the statistics, tell me again,

when women actually felt comfortable in their own skin?

We’re paid less because we bleed,

because our emotions will scream,

because we have testosterone (sometimes)

which is a man’s thing, and we aren’t men,

but we get the blame and the pain

without the glory of not having

blood and blood and screaming

but nobody hears you

because pretty people are the focus-

men are the focus.

because you’re a teenage girl.

Teenage girls, destroyed

by this male-dominated society.

We’re told crying means weakness,

men can’t be feminine, can’t like pink,

and when we stand up, they only blink,

they tell us that we’re standing up for nothing,

that this world, this society

isn’t what killed me,

not what killed her or her or him,

any of those children

who screamed.

Teacher, teacher, don’t you wait.

Because suddenly, they’ll delay,

And suddenly, they’ll refuse to debate,

even though we all know equality

is all we want, all we need,

and yet we have to scream

when they don’t hear us,

and they scream

when we don’t obey,

so yes.

Lack of equality

has indeed been killing me.

Dear girls of the next generation,

even if I die fighting only a verbal war,

even if my name isn’t anything but spit at

when it’s listed on my gravestone,

you’ll get your rights, I’ll make sure of it,

because I’m not fighting alone.