Whistle

 

There's nothing quite like being de-humanized. 

It's tricky. It can either make you feel even more human, or less. 

 

One whistle, one geometric 'damn girl', one ass slap, it can lead to so much more. 

 

It can force you to feel the fire that has lowly burned through your veins your entire life, something that you always had to control and tame because it simply wasn't lady like. It forces you to realize that you are more than the world has ptrained you to believe. 

 

Or, it can bury you; under the ash and rubble that once maintained a perfect posture of self esteem. It can make you feel low, ugly, worthless even. 

 

But know this, to every foul smelling, snark stalling, drunk before 8pm, so called man who thinks a whistle is all it takes to get what you disgustingly, desperately, involuntary crave from me. 

 

My body, is just that. Mine. You will never have it, you will never take it, and I will never let you. 

 

And I know that must come as a shock to you, considering a very large percentage of you were taught from the second you were born that the world was built for you. 

 

That I was built for you. For your greasy, unwashed, unpolished, two-toned hands. That I belong in them, until you decide I don't. 

 

And I know it must be easier for you to do what you've watched so many others before do, when you forget that I might just have feelings. 

 

But the first couple of times your kind has done this to me, I have been terrified. 

But let this be a warning to you, and to anyone else who thinks it's okay for a grown man to look a teenage girl up and down and say "Damn, baby. If only I had enough time on my hands." 

 

This is a warning to anyone who thinks it's okay to say that to anyone in general. 

 

For every whistle, and every "all I asked for was a smile", I will pick and prodle through each of you, and separate you into tiny boxes. I will leave five beastly animals in there with you, no food required. 

 

And I will wait. 

 

And I will call you desperate, as if you politely asked me to. 

 

I will take needles and force you to smile even when you don't want to. 

 

And maybe then, when you have no other options but to either give in or fight until you can't any longer, maybe then you will finally understand what it is you do to us. 

 

For every young girl who's body tells you a different age than what she really is, 

For every lesbian woman who has been told that she just hasn't found the right guy yet, for every mother beaten and raped for not giving you the smile you have been taught to demand. 

 

For every race, every religion, every sexuality, every so called virgin and so called slut, for every Christian and every atheist, every Muslim and every Jew, we are one. 

 

And on behalf of all of us, 

I will hear your screams, and all I will do is whistle. 

This poem is about: 
Me
Guide that inspired this poem: 

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