""The men are talking now," is a phrase that I’ve heardfor 21 years too long now and I’m..."

“

"The men are talking now," is a phrase that I’ve heard

for 21 years too long now and I’m beginning to wonder

when it will be my turn to talk and who is actually listening.

Yes, this is a poem about feminism and if you’re already tired

of reading about it then be quiet, because the women are talking now.

I’ve noticed that whenever someone calls themselves a feminist

there are already questions about what’s happened to them

in their past, who hurt them, if they ever had a good relationship

with their father, already waiting on the tips of tongues

of those who don’t listen but wait for their turn to talk.

“Feminist”, she calls herself and immediately after that word

leaves her lips there are sounds of agonizing moans

from not only men but the women in her life that she once thought

were her idols. Now she can’t say feminist without saying

that she’s sorry or that she doesn’t mean to offend anyone.

I’ve been asking myself for awhile now when did progress

mean torture and when did wanting to better not only yourself

but the women who you have watched struggle

while holding their rightful tongue, mean too sensitive

of a subject to touch base on?

This is not only for me but this is for the women I’ve seen

walk to their car with four keys in between each space

of their fingers, wanting to make it safe home but having to worry

about even making it alive out of the darkness.

"A man must have really hurt you for you to hate men so much.",

but even if a man has hurt me in the past I am the one who must have

agitated him and deserved the bruises along my cheekbone.

I should have been the one to shut my mouth while he spewed

emotional violence towards me, but being the woman that I am,

being how all women are, I just didn’t know when to stop.

Because growing up as a young girl we are taught by those

who have used their fists to prove their point, that there is nothing

worse than ending up alone, and that we need to do

whatever we can to make a man love us, even if that means

having to change who we are completely for their satisfaction.

"Feminism," I say in a whisper in hopes that no one will hear me

and try to tell me that I have no right, or that because it hasn’t

happened to me, or that I have it good and have no right

to complain, or that I am complaining and not teaching

and that whenever I say the word entitles that I hate all men.

"Feminism," leaves his mouth and he laughs as he tells

my cousin and I that he would punch a girl in the face

if he couldn’t get in trouble for it. He looks at me straight

in the eye and winks and I can actually feel myself holding on

my keys tighter, pulling my beer closer, looking around the room

to see the safest and most efficient exit before he calls me a slut

for wearing a skirt and not fucking him like my outfit said I would.

I have my fathers number on speed dial,

my oldest brother knows where I’m at all times just in case,

my mother tells me not to stay out too late,

my sister tells me that I should take it as a compliment,

my friend is fucking her boyfriend in the other room

because his ex girlfriend was at the party too.

"Feminist," I say out loud to myself when I’m in my bed,

proud and unalarmed.

"Feminist," I call myself with no hesitation, no fear, no turning back.

"Feminist," the word that only those who really know what it means

will call you and make you feel as if you really are doing something right.

”

- "I’m not fighting fire with fire when the only thing I am using is water," - Colleen Brown