By T. Grisdale
I am a woman.
And what does being a woman demand?
It demands that I bite my tongue, when yours lashes out constantly
In fear of being bit back,
Until the blood is spilling out of my mouth in gallons.
But I will swallow this blood for your benefit
Because that is what I was taught.
It demands that I let you obsess over my body,
Critique my body,
Judge my body like we are in a courthouse,
Like I am evidence of your superiority when you conquer my purity.
It demands that I become a statistic.