Richest Woman in the World
If I had a dollar for every time some guy in his white construction company truck slowed down to gawk at me like some mannequin in a store window
If I had a dollar for every time I heard that same guy say “ayyyye mommy, how you doin?” as if he’d speak to his mother that way
If I had a dollar for every time I felt my knuckles to white as I clutched my keys tightly praying to a strong, masculine, god that I wouldn’t need to use them against some guy ready to catch me like the last bus of the night
If I had a dollar for every time I sighed in relief realizing that man had a child with him
If I had a dollar for every time I locked my car doors and rehearsed the statistics “even if he has a gun there’s only a 40% chance he’ll shoot it and only a 10% chance he’ll hit something vital”
If I had a dollar for every one I was called a misandrist because “not all men” are like the men in this poem
Then I would be the richest woman in the world.
Bur even then, I’d only have 41% of what the world’s richest man has
And even then, patriarchy would have its hold on me just as tightly as the men in this poem would have liked to.
me, in honor of every individual who identifies with any part of this poem (via ferncutie)