I Am Not Your Property


An adult human female


A female child


Any female descendant.


A female offspring with parents in common.


A married woman.


Where, tell me where, in all those definitions,

Does it say “property"?

Does it say "weak"?

Does it say you have any say over what I say, who I am, what I do?

I am not a walking womb.

I am not my breasts, nor uterus, nor my long hair.

I am not defined by the swing in my hips when I walk, or the soft curves of my body,

My full lips, wide eyes, the dresses I wear or the way my heels clack against the floor.

I am not yours to catcall, to rape, to demand a date of, to demand time of.

I am not the sum of my parts--I am not yours to command.


I am the way my laughter bubbles up, a soft giggle, when I am trying to hold back from making a sound, and the way it racks my body with full-throated chuckles.

I am the way my shoulders shake with sobs when I hurt, and the way tears just barely trickled down my cheeks when I twisted my ankle, even though I was blinded with pain.

And I am the way I rage against your perception of me, who you

I am, without knowing anything about me, besides my appearance, besides my makeup, and the way I style my hair?


I am not your property.

I am not at your beck and call.

I am not the sum of my parts.

I am so much more.

And I will not stand by while you dictate my life to me, while you rule on whether I must carry a child or whether I have the right to my own health records.

I will not stand idle when you threaten my children’s future, my sisters’ lives, when you brainwash my mothers and grandmothers and aunts.

I am not your property.

And I will fight to the death to ensure that she does not become so.



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