Pounding fists are not gavels,
and society unravels
when we concede to chaos and noise.
Some people won’t change no matter their travels–
they can traverse the globe yet insist the world is flat,
see a dog and call it a cat,
say “the sky is green,” and do we say, “No, I’m sorry, it’s blue”?
Do we say, “I think maybe your views are askew”?
No–we give them platforms and mics and attention with board meetings, podcasts, posts and conventions. It seems that every American town hall
has Toms, Dicks and Harrys with no heart, but all gall.
We worship idols who
ruffle feathers rather than lead, who’ll say anything to get the sound-bytes that they need.
Call out these blowhards, these mice among men.
I have told you once, and I’ll tell you again:
a secret that every one of us knows
is the emperor isn’t wearing any clothes.
Just a cool breeze of change would bring him to a knee,
and our awareness of his bareness
unchanged by decree.
He’s long in the tooth but short on change,
and ours is a future for us to arrange.
So speak clearly with poise
against mob-forming boys,
but don’t think women won’t form them, too.
We’ve been taught there’s not enough room at the table, so we
elbow and gossip our way to a chair,
pulling no punches but pulling out hair.
But if we’re the ones expected to set the table and serve the cheese, then we should sit wherever we damn well please.
We’ve been conditioned to think there’s no stopping the trolls who’ve pushed us back into corners and hallways in droves.
But what we’ve forgotten is more than they’ll learn–
that the truth doesn’t need to be yelled to be heard.
A new year sweeps in whether or not you’ve spun your noisemakers or banged spoons on pots.
When the record plays over and over, you start to hear scratches.
“What was that you said? You’ve come off your latches.”
Ask questions, engage and hold feet to the fire.
This world needs your voice– the situation is dire.
This space is yours, too,
so go, grab the mic. The floor is yours now.
Here’s looking at you.

You will open our car door
But lie to our face,
You admire our ambition
But call “false start” in our race,
You will compliment our blouse
But say nothing of our work,
You’ll applaud our career
But expect a clean house,
You tell us we’re pretty
But for our age,
You champion our audition
But won’t share the stage,
You adore our softness
But then say we’re too weak,
You pull out our chair
But then won’t let us speak,
You question our choices
But have done all the same,
You know our title
But don’t know our name,
“I prefer natural women”
But “don’t let yourself go,”
“We’re o.k. with your feelings”
But “don’t let them show,”
You encourage our passions
But dismiss our fears,
You take the lift up a mountain
We’ve climbed barefoot for years,
“Penny for your thoughts”
But steamroll our agenda,
Three quarters to your dollar
But we’re not wise spenders,
You say dress to impress
But keep ourselves modest,
Be coy and coquettish
But forthright and honest,
You applaud our efforts
But question our worth,
We should practice self-care
But “bounce back” from childbirth,
Make our voices be heard
But don’t ever yell,
It’s unbecoming for a woman
To kiss and to tell,
Your hobbies are a right
while our safety is a privilege,
We’re to have all your babies
But where is our village?
Be strong but not big,
be smart but play dumb.
You’ll kiss our hand
But keep us under your thumb.
“Don’t be a spinster”
But “don’t stay out late.”
If we must work after hours,
Then keep a quick gait
And have our keys handy,
because men lie in wait
To rob us and hurt us
and ruin our life.
But we should find a good man
And become his good wife.
There is no greater threat
to women than men.
Not sharks in the ocean,
nor bears in the woods
Have hurt us as much
as your coulds and your shoulds.
See, this is the wisdom
we’re taught our first minute:
that a gentleman will offer a light,
But will burn the entire house down
with us in it.