I’m over that gender role bullshit
I know that no matter what I do I’ll still be a hit.
But then I start to think long and hard of what’s been holding me back
That even in the land of the free gender inequalities is still a fact.
I’ve worked so hard to get where I’m at in life,
But still my wounds bleed through the sexist sharp knife.
I still have nightmares of a young man, who controlled everything about me,
He had power over everything I could think, say, here or see.
He called me a slut whenever I disobeyed him,
Breaking down my character ‘till I became a wimp.
His evil words always ripped me apart,
He was so cold blooded trying to win over my heart.
He even had the power to break up the best friendship I ever had,
Telling her all these lies of how I cheated on him and made him sad.
I feel like everyone is against me in this game called life,
That even my best girl will wave in my face the sexists sharp knife.
So I went home that night and just cried,
Terrified that I had no where safe to run and hide.
That’s when I decide to limp back to the arms of my abuser,
As he’s telling me that if I keep my mouth shut I’ll look much cuter.
Suddenly his temper is lowered as his ego is fed,
As he’s violently forcing me to get into his bed.
Thinking his slick words are being used to be sweet and kind,
Singing I have a cute face, small waist, and a big behind.
He tried to convince me that my body is all I’m worth,
That maybe a few years from now he’ll need me to give birth.
Birth to a daughter that will realize everything is working against her,
Realizing that no matter how good she behaves she’ll still get hurt.
So she’ll give up and end up choosing to wear that short skirt.
She develops and eating disorder so she thinks it’s her duty to hurl.
Feeling ashamed because nothing bad is supposed to happen to good girls.
So in hopes of making her feel better,
I’ll try to think long and hard of a story I want to tell her
About a memory that was slowly beginning to fade
Of a time I ran to my mom’s arms in tears at 8th grade,
Telling her, “Mom, I feel oppressed, abused, raped,
Just by a comment a vulgar old man made.
She tells me, “Nena, I’m sorry, that how life is, you gotta accept it.”
I turn and think to myself, “Fuck that! I’m not accepting shit!”
I deserve all the respect in the world,
No matter if I’m transgender, a man, or a little 8th grade girl.
So I’ll be telling my daughter to stand up and be a fighter.
To refuse the pink ribbon over her eyes with her chin up and stand taller
Then I’ll tell her of a time that I was strolling down the street,
Minding my ouwn business trying to quickly shuffle my feet,
Through a scare crowd of about seven or ten,
A crowd made up of power hungry old me.
They start to look me up and down with a big ass grin.
One of them caresses my arm and vulgarly says,
“Hey baby, come here and give me some head.”
That’s when I close my eyes and blink back a tear,
This is only one of many harassing comments I pretend not to hear.
Trying to hold back all my anger and hate,
Toward these people I’m supposed to work with to procreate.
These people who have objectified me my entire life,
Stabbing my self-esteem with the sexist sharp knife.
At times like these I wished I carried around mace,
But turn around anyway to say fuck you to his face
And the second I open my mouth to defend my body,
He says, “Oh shit! I’m sorry; I thought you were a nobody.”
I’ll remind her to stand tall and proud, leading a feminist life,
In order to dodge the slick blade of the sexist sharp knife.
Because you know what I’m not taking this shit anymore,
I don’t want to be society’s mindless little whore.
I’m not a man-hater, I’m just pointing out what I see,
All this oppressive behavior happening against me.
My goal was to tell my story hoping to inspire,
Hoping this will help raise the subordinates one step higher.
Higher toward the leveled line of equality.
So high I can reach for the sky to be whatever I want to be.
Because you see,
Feminist are just women who don’t want to be treated like crap,
So just put your fists up in the air when I’m done talking and that’s a rap.