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.