the collage sums up my whole point: feminism/ gender equality, self-love, power of the people, resistance to oppression, etc.
Generational curses --
This old lady whom I call Grandma, a rightist conservatist,
Taught my Mother the proper cycle to womanhood -
My Mother then taught me as well,
Her perceived, enlivened rhythm
Yet, rather, this rhythm made me hear a background voice -
Of hollers and roars,
I questioned its sound,
And my Mom explained -
"It is how it is"
When I was six,
The concept of virginity was instilled to me,
I shouldn't ride a bike more often,
Because a thing could tear:
My hymen.
But I shrugged it off,
Because oh my God, I was just a child.
When I was nine,
These older people are pressuring me,
To do the chores
They're telling me that I deserve the kitchen,
When I want the field, the flowers, and the breeze of air
When I was ten,
My older cousin, who was just eighteen
Popped out a living in her womb -
A baby!
I thought a brand new life deserved
Cherished speeches and sparklers,
But how come it was garnering turn downs?
My cousin was deeply humiliated,
But I really didn't fathomed their context
My Mother just told me not to get a boyfriend,
Nor get pregnant in a young age
I nod, yet asked,
"Where was her boyfriend though?"
The next event shocked me;
Because when I was twelve,
I had my first crush.
He was an ace to the academe.
He was smart, wordy, and a teacher's pet
Thus I strived hard and harder
This girl, in able to be liked back
Should forge her truth and adjust to their ideal
My Mom punished me after knowing I'm flinging,
But did not expound why she did what's done.
Finally, on highschool, I'm kind of learning
That a cocoon is just a shell,
And I am a butterfly.
I'm now a teen who's trying to fit in -
Yet the flamboyant flowers are all tenanted;
And I frowned when I saw a leaf -
Vacant and open.
Huffed and flared, I deserve a flower
Because a butterfly is meant for it
Isn't it Mom?
Because even blue and pink,
Cars and dolls,
Yard and kitchen -
Are all genderized.
Six, nine, and sixteen.
I was sixteen,
When I dressed up
A fashion I'm hooked.
I look in the mirror confidently,
And saw how pretty I was
With this mesh top beneath a strapless bra,
Paired with a pink cute plaid skirt-
Ready to hop off!
Until this outfit was caught,
What I'm wearing is an invite to the beasts,
My Mom told.
I felt I was like a balloon-
Soaring near the sky, only to be hit by a trunk-
I was deflated.
But whatever! I deserve an escape.
I flied like a butterfly
Searching, of course, still for flowers
From here to there--
I bumped a bee, and the sting per se tingled me
How dare this man stare and touch my bossom?
He yelled,
A flaunted skin, shall be poked and taunted-
And I realized, my Mom was right.
I was seventeen,
Retorting for my choices of clothes,
Choices of actions,
Choices in life, as a whole of the jingbang.
Maybe femininity is a curse itself?
Yet, now I'm twenty -
When I thought,
My two decades,
And their millennium
To womanhood
Is hugely maligned, aggrieved,
Neglected and oppressed.
The complexity of this gender and sex,
Is a social construct,
And the older generation;
My Grandma and my Mom -
Are victimized.
These generational curses,
Should be a broken symmetry
Patriarchy has to be smashed-
And the underlying issues:
Misogyny, sexism, gender stereotyping
Rape culture and victim blaming --
Are not at all deserved by thee:
The bearer of the future generation,
Nor my Mom, who was a product
Of the older conservative culture.
The princess in the castle:
Deprived of the crust, husk and all the outer
Confined in a little crown;
Dancing with a huge petticoat of suppression;
Eating a piece of cake, in a plate of title
The princess in the castle:
Whose bed is much secured with a fine net
Yet sleeps underneath,
Hundreds of foams of social constructions
One is femininity,
Two is virginity,
Three is genderization
Four to hundred should be -
All the fads in the society
The princess in the castle:
When the moment she walked her first steps,
She was coerced to chin up.
She has been training,
A quarter of her life-
To be a perfect wife,
To the golden prince, she'll dance at night
The princess in the castle:
A future queen,
A small beer to the King;
She only has a bejeweled chair,
But not a throne,
Not a clincher,
Nor a manly power
On an ideal monarchic rule,
The princess who became a queen
Is just an out of order comfort room
A paradoxical majesty,
A fertile spouse
And a bearer of heir.
In the game of chess,
The queen has more freedom,
Hence the most powerful piece
But why is that-
When you lose the king,
You'll lose the game?
On the size of mattresses,
The size of a queen is colossal
Until the bed of a king was designed-
And people started to favor its bed,
Not because it's more colossal,
But because its name is King-
Behind our fantasies of princesses-
Like Ariel from the sea,
Who walked on land for a man;
Or Belle who loved a once monstrous beast;
Is the romanticization-
That women's love is a craft of sacrifice,
Craft of nerves of adjusting
Craft of transforming a boy to man
Behind our fantasies of Queens-
Like Snow White's evilish dark witch,
Or Cinderella's money-grabbing pig,
Is a reality of demonizing step-mothers,
But indebting the step-fathers?
Behind our fantasies of princesses and Queens-
Like Cinderella versus her step-sisters;
Snow White versus the witch;
Or the battle of Ariel and Ursula;
Is a hidden battle of internalised misogyny-
The unofficial pageantry,
A sham contest in the thread mill,
A quiz about adjectives-
Simple, comparative, and superlative
Behind our fantasies of princesses and Queens,
Is a drunk society on the rotten misogyny,
Bloated on the immense bites of sexism
Thus behold, the birth of women's cholera:
The dehydration of gender equality,
The snail's pace death of feminism,
The watery feces -
Of women seen as objects for someone's materialism;
Of women viewed as tools for reformation and detours
Of women only seen as fertile wife and mothers;
Of women trapped in the soul of repression;
Of feministic women accused of misandry;
And, of women dancing with heels of prejudices...
OH HEY, FOR BEST VIEWING, YOU'LL NEED TO TURN YOUR PHONE