My spirit was invaded today, my pride was conquered
The strongest, surest part of me crumbled to bits before him
And I could only back down,
Stare blankly like the thoughtless, emotionless being,
The thing they want me to be,
The thing they made me into.
A Man treated me like an Object tonight,
He thought it would calm me down,
But it only made me angry.
Your compliments and my compliments are not the same thing.
These words that make perfect sense in your universe make me feel used,
And Harassed. At the same time, Regretful.
I should have said something:
Your compliment does not become debt in my hands.
I don't owe you forgiveness, patience or understanding.
You don't understand me.
I am not a weak girl, starved for attention so much that your few words,
of what you think is a grand buffet and is actually a pitiful table scrap,
that These few words will melt my opposition,
Reduce my pride to a shy creature living off your gaze.
You cannot turn me into the thing you did.
You shouldn't shrink me to anything lower than the towering values that I am and always have been.
But you have and I don't know why.
I have done a disservice to every woman you will ever meet,
Every friend who witnesses your acts and allows their chauvinism more leverage,
Every daughter you have that is taught to wish for the interested attention of a guy, any guy,
Every son that expects everything for being born the sex he was born.
You made me into an Object, and
Just this time,
I let you.
But, I made you into a Monster that will not stop because he doesn't think that what he's doing is wrong,
And for that, I am truly sorry.