Quivering are the lips of those who try and find ways of keeping us down. Quickly and quietly, however, they flee, as they discover that questioning our authority over ourselves is futile. They have stopped demanding a list of qualifications. Our qualities surpass their pre-conceived ideas about our weaknesses.
Utopian dreams of a world unanimously ignorant to the differences between us, boys and girls. We are under our own assumption that we are ultimately the same in matters of power and control. Usually this stance makes us fall prey. We must get back up each time we fall.
Everything laid out in the ethers which brought humanity into being makes us exceptionally similar, both in body and mind. We envision a time and place in which these similarities are emphasized and respected.
Everyone dies. The inevitability of this death should only bring true understanding to the concepts outlined above, eventually bringing us closer. Instead, extreme misconceptions of our worth as women remain. Con-men with elixirs to distort our self-perception. Our eminence shrunk down and the stress on our shortcomings produce self-doubt.
No fooling us. There is no wool over our eyes. Nothing screams for you to take a chance and pull out your net to catch us. There is no twinkle from behind our pupils. There is no false notion that we need taken care of. We will not bow to your self-perpetuated superiority. Your knight on a steed is null and void. There is no saving us; we don’t need saving. We are not princesses. We are queens.
(The previous work was produced on a piece of looseleaf in a friend’s kitchen in a matter of minutes. It has been tweaked but for the most part the original work is there. I hated this poem until I read it aloud and then I loved it. I have never branded myself a feminist, but as more of an equalist [?]. Look at me making up words. I think that just proves how much I don’t give a shit what other people try to tell me to do or where my place is or what is expected of me. Long live the queen.)