Just an eclectic soul exploring different realms. You will find here bits of me.
“the first word I teach my daughter will be “no”
she will sing it to me and scream it at me
and I will never tell her to quiet down
she will say it when I tell her to go to bed
when I tell her she can’t have anymore candy
or watch anymore television
“no” will be my daughter’s favorite word
not only will I teach her how to say it
but I will teach her to repeat it over and over
again until every single atom in her tiny little body
hums with it
If it makes her less soft than the other girls
I will take her to museums and show her
what marble and stone can become
I will brush her hair and let her wear whatever
whatever that makes her
she will know
that the world has been built upon “no’s”
upon rejections and refusals and swords
if this makes her a warrior in a field of
flowers, then she will walk without fear
of being trampled on
the first word I teach my daughter will be
and when she grows up
in a world that tells her
she can’t walk down the street by herself
that “no” will be heard
it will roar and echo down the block
and she will never be told to keep
she will not know the meaning of the word.”
Ultimately, the #YesAllWomen rallying cry reached more than 1 million tweets in the days since the tragedy, outlasting even Kim Kardashian’s wedding on Sunday. But women are not the only ones frustrated by our society’s institutionalized misogyny. So many men, too, reported feeling disgusted by the attitudes of the shooter and his alleged peers, the “men’s rights activists” that not only influenced Rodger, but publicly predicted more violence if men aren’t given what they want.
Men deserve their own space to talk back to these “activists.” Here is just a small part of that response, but you can find more responses or post your own on the hashtag #AllMenCan, because all men can have respect for women without ever becoming less of a man.
he said it’s not the same, and I knew instantly he meant lonely.
time the inevitable.
his words slowly sank in me, gathering dark at the bottom.
I kept quiet, and the silence brewed its bitter taste in my mouth.
But I couldn’t spit it out, because it was too cruel to him,
and to me.