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Literature Text
I did not know my glass house was
in fact a store front window display
where my every action is an advertisement
and my words are to be changed and hung
up and thrown out with every season I grow.
When I was younger, I was not aware that
I was a product, a special commodity to be bought
and paid for with chocolates and unzipped pants, and flowers,
to be programmed with only certain phrases and
preapproved emotions, that I am a fantasy but breathing.
How could I have known my education was to consist
of the equation to finding a man, the art of subtlety, the
science to domesticity, and how to write myself as
a book easy enough to read, but still deep enough
to make the reader feel like a wise man.
That I was to be opened only when needed
and my place was on the top shelf, looking pretty
and unused, because well-worn is not a compliment
as used goods are for people who can't pay full price
and my value is lessened with each mark made.
That I wasn't to be made of stone, that I must
be willing to provide new editions of myself
and indeed thirty is not the new twenty
I should strive to better myself, by listening to what
the customer wants, for they are always right
I had not the proper knowledge, that my body is
just a placeholder for lesser thoughts to hide and
how I am only temporarily mine, because
I have no right to deny everyone from looking at
me and judging me for being more than a pretty painting
I did not know my glass house was
in fact a store front window display, where
I was to be bought and sold and lusted and
coveted and valued and stolen and violated
free of charge but for the cost of my autonomy
in fact a store front window display
where my every action is an advertisement
and my words are to be changed and hung
up and thrown out with every season I grow.
When I was younger, I was not aware that
I was a product, a special commodity to be bought
and paid for with chocolates and unzipped pants, and flowers,
to be programmed with only certain phrases and
preapproved emotions, that I am a fantasy but breathing.
How could I have known my education was to consist
of the equation to finding a man, the art of subtlety, the
science to domesticity, and how to write myself as
a book easy enough to read, but still deep enough
to make the reader feel like a wise man.
That I was to be opened only when needed
and my place was on the top shelf, looking pretty
and unused, because well-worn is not a compliment
as used goods are for people who can't pay full price
and my value is lessened with each mark made.
That I wasn't to be made of stone, that I must
be willing to provide new editions of myself
and indeed thirty is not the new twenty
I should strive to better myself, by listening to what
the customer wants, for they are always right
I had not the proper knowledge, that my body is
just a placeholder for lesser thoughts to hide and
how I am only temporarily mine, because
I have no right to deny everyone from looking at
me and judging me for being more than a pretty painting
I did not know my glass house was
in fact a store front window display, where
I was to be bought and sold and lusted and
coveted and valued and stolen and violated
free of charge but for the cost of my autonomy
I'm tired being told I'm going to have a husband and kids when I say I don't want either, being accused of being a lesbian just because I don't want to marry, being told my education should come second when my brother was told to put his first, my opinions and knowledge getting dismissed in favor of some guy who knows nothing of what he is talking about, my feelings being written of as just PMS, and being the butt of jokes just because my genitalia is different. I'm tired of being called a bitch when I try to be a leader, and of being called easy if my skirt happens to be short. I shouldn't have to be afraid to walk at night, and I shouldn't be told I'm asking for it if I reveal a little bit of skin, then called a prude if I decide not to. There shouldn't be people telling me they like it better when I dress girly. I'm not perfect, but that doesn't mean I have to change to fit some ungodly standard I'll never achieve anyways at the expense of my happiness and rights.
tumblr: dreamlandtheories.tumblr.com/p…
tumblr: dreamlandtheories.tumblr.com/p…
Comments9
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Thank you! I don't know what to say other than that. You have expressed something I have long felt but am rarely able to put into words. Others expectations and ideas of what defines women is often at odds with my very soul. Sometimes I'm embarassed to say I've just given in because it is easier that way. If I was stronger I would fight against those expectations, but it's so easy to take the path of least resistance when just trying to make it through life the best you can. Enough of my rambling. I am very pleased you posted this. I'm sorry about the frustration and invalidation you are experiencing though...I'm sorry we are all experiencing it....