"Not all men."
"Not all men are abusive. Stop being so paranoid."
"Not all men are rapists. Why don't you trust me?"
"Not all men are cold and cruel. I'm not your dad."
Not all men, but some.
There's a twenty-two year old woman walking from the clothing store where she works to her car. It's 8 pm, and the sun is setting on the murky horizon.
Only sixty-seven feet to her car, but sixty-seven is more than enough for the catcalls and vulgar shouts to reach her ears.
Enough to make her afraid. Not all men, but some.
Girls are taught in school to lock their car doors, avoid strangers, stay inside at night, watch their backs, carry pepper spray, cover up so they don't get assaulted.
"Why do women go everywhere in groups?" We're scared to go alone. Not all men, but some.
I hate to put all males in one basket when there are good men in the world.
Not all men, but how are we to know right from rapist? How can we trust the "nice guys" when we've watched our mothers, our sisters, our friends be burned by men promising safety and respect?
Not all men, no. But how many bloody mistakes do we have to make before finding the right one?
Not all men. But enough.
YOU ARE READING
poems from the darkroom
PoetryI can't always say how I feel, but collecting poems from the corners of my brain and the millions of half-full notebooks makes me feel a little better. I hope you can relate to them, or at least be distracted from life for a moment :)
