I feel feminine, but I know I am not a woman.
I know that I have the kind of anger in me that all women have.
The kind that comes from growing up as a girl.
I may not have grown into a woman, but I still feel her anger.
The anger that came with undesired touches.
The anger that came in every mocking word,
every gaze looking down at me.
For every, "That isn't very lady like."
A lady doesn't scream.
A lady doesn't beg.
A lady doesn't say no.
She keeps her head high and her mouth shut and her hands tied.
She gives, and she gives, and she gives until there is nothing left.
I feel feminine because my rage is feminine.
It's the kind of rage that every woman has.
A desire to tear and to rip and to shred.
To scream for so long that your throat starts to bleed.
To keep on screaming even through the blood.
The taste of iron on your tongue.
My scream is a weapon I feel I am not worthy of.
That I have not bled enough.
That just because my rage is feminine,
It doesn't give me the right to scream.
Not like those girls that have become women.
Their screams make my heart ache.
Girls protecting girls makes my heart ache.
Female empowerment makes my heart ache.
To have experienced what they have experienced, but to not be able to call myself one of them.
To wince at their positivity and their strength and their screams, because I feel as if it does not belong to me.
My rage is feminine and I feel as if it does not belong to me.
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The diary of Seth Alexander
No Ficciónas the title suggests, this is legit going to be my diary. and yes, most diaries are supposed to be secret, but I have always been an open book. I like to pretend to be mysterious, but the people around me will all tell you that I am am someone who...
