Propping up patriarchy
Open arms and a stern face. A cold face, hard face. Flowing robes and a straight back, pat, pat. Sit down here, dear. You are weary, I am strong. You are teary. Come here, get gone! Wrong wrong. You are shrill, sit still, tap tap, you can’t do that. Tut tut slut.
Here’s a chair, don’t you dare, shrug me off. You are bossy. I am boss. Your loss.
Stare stare never dare act my equal. I am the church and I am the steeple. Look at all the little people! Little women, little girls. Don’t do that to me girl. Don’t make me do it.
Take my hand I won’t let you hold. Take this money I control. Take my word because it’s right, by my might, I am right, I am right. I look strong and you look wrong, dear dear, sit here. Let me council, though you’re worthless. Let me soothe you, though you’re hopeless. Born sick, can’t be trusted, nice to touch but don’t get busted. Poor me. Shrug, sigh. You know I really do try.
This is where the doubt comes from. This keeps me from being strong. Today I kicked the chair away. Will not sit down, relax my frown. Because guidance doesn’t feel like that, and comfort doesn’t harm you.
I won’t comply with being wrong; won’t drop my sword, silence my song. Here and always here and now, I am refusing to sit down. I grab my staff and walk my path.