How Long?

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I am a woman

This is something I am proud of

This is a symbol of who I am and what I have overcome

It is a bond with other woman, a bond that enables me to laugh, to cry, to dream, to empathize,

To feel injustice with them

Injustice is difficult to contain

In gnaws at the conscience, screaming for release

It boils the mind, ensnares the blood with passion

For I am a woman

Something I am proud of

And I am scared

Because of it

I cannot walk without fear,

Through a park,

A street,

A store,

My job,

Because I am a woman, and therefore, I am desired by men

My clothes are modest

I don't like showing cleavage, and my skirts are always below my knees

If my shorts are too short, it's because I'm tall,

It really isn't my decision at all

And yet, through my modesty

My purity

My clean behavior

I am a target.

I have friends who were raped

And every story cuts my deeper

The agony I know they hide daily

The sensation of feeling dirty

Worthless

Disgusting

Used

Every story burns a brand into my mind

These girls did nothing wrong

And yet they blame themselves, at least partly

If I had acted differently

If I had dressed differently

If I had-

No.

There is no if I had.

You said no, and they wouldn't listen.

You told them to stop, and they shut out your words.

They scarred you forever.

I was raised to believe that losing your virginity is special

That you should give it to someone who matters

Tell me, how do you think it feels to these girls who had that privilege torn away from them

To know that a man they don't know,

Or don't love,

Or hate

Stole what is so precious.

Or if they aren't virgins,

Tell me, how do you think it feels to be sitting on your bed, worried sick because your period is late,

Tears streaming down your face, wondering if you're pregnant

From the man who forced himself inside you

Having to make an impossible decision for yourself

Feeling so alone

So isolated

So apart from everyone else

Maybe I don't have a right to talk about rape

I've never been raped

But I fear it

Not just for myself, though that fear is strong

I fear for my naive, innocent, sweet best friend, who truly believes in the best of people

I fear for my little sister, just growing into her womanhood

I hate that my best friend has to find that people are cruel

I hate that my little sister has to learn to fear the same way I do

I do not hate men

I have good friends who are men

I have a father who is a good man

I do not hate men

But I fear them

I fear what they can do to me

I am in good shape

I used to be a strong athlete

I lifted, worked out, ran

A fifty year old overweight man could pin me down effortlessly

There is nothing I can do

To be stronger than a man

I do not want to be afraid

I do not want my friends to be afraid

I do not want my sister to be afraid

But I am.

Why do they have to do it?

Why can't they accept a no?

Why can't they behave the same way we were taught to?

Why can't they respect that we remember?

That we fear?

Does that not sicken them?

Do they feel no remorse for what they did to a human being?

Someone with dreams and passions and feelings just like them?

How long will it go on?

How long do I have to be afraid? 

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