Issue 5 - October 2020
Mills St.
By Rachel French Save your “woe is me” Tale about the fictitious nature of male privilege. Look me in my tired eyes and tell me that There is no benefit to being a man. Laugh in the faces of the suffragettes, The 54 or 77 cents to your dollar, The 1 in 4 college women who will become victims of Sexual assault. Tell me then About how I was not innocent in my own experience. Walking alone late at night is a sin That must be punished. Do I deserve this– My assaulter’s face burned into my memory? His hands on my inner thighs, Breath on my neck every time I try to fall asleep? I have never met a woman who does not Carry her keys between her fingers. One who neglects to check the backseat Or waits longer than a beat to lock her car doors. It is ingrained in us as deeply As the way we draw breath. If there is an opportunity, A blind spot– You asked for it And are no longer the victim. I am followed through my place of work “When do you get off” in addition to an expletive. This man is over 40 I am a fresh 19. My male coworker laughs when I tell him I am afraid. The terror follows me home. At school I am told that my skirt is too short But there are just 3 sizes, and none fit me right. The boys laugh and touch me as I walk up the stairs to class– I am 12.
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