Domination

dismantle-brick-wallI’m one of the good ones:

I do the dishes
and elevate women’s voices
because I am a feminist

I don’t grab pussies
or force myself on women

I’m a regular enlightened modern man

Yet…

yesterday I made her care so much
about my feelings
she buried her own

the day before that
I conjured up a story,
a real whopper:

her love for others
threatened her love for me

I just couldn’t have that
so I issued edicts

The day before that
my anger (read: pain)
shut her down
though I didn’t swear once,
I swear

like a deer
she froze
in the headlights
of my sickly vile beast

then I sarcastically mumbled
my disappointment
not accepting my whisper
dripped with the same venom

my beastly mask has no ears to hear

No, I don’t catcall
or assume gender roles
or call someone a bitch

But sexism lives in me

a different species
but the same genus:

Domination

a subject as object
for me to control
because my comfort
matters above all

an exercise in power
the ultimate display
of fragility

it doesn’t define me
yet I know it circulates in me
like toxic blood
inherited from
wounds
inflicted by an oppressed culture

so, I shall pick up my hammer
and continue
chipping away at
this goddamn 40 year weight
around my heart
dismantle this ugly fort
of which I am so tired

In the old french
dismantle meant to un-fortify,
as in, to take apart a fort,
to destroy its defensive capability

but there is nothing to defend
in the first place

when I settle
into my true power and love
that I have betrayed

I am a sexist feminist
with a hammer

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2 thoughts on “Domination

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