they curse us in layers of lace -
wanting delicate to countenance
myths of strength;
in ages Victorian corseting
was woman defined:
breasts parading in pairs,
saluting heavenly;
hips waving from deep-boned skirts
with bustles waggling wanton;
wombs narrowed, hiding past encounters,
fertile is fine -
but only if they can
own it; a monopoly of unsoiled.
Unnoticed.
fainting was common then,
at small excitements,
so we needed every
protection.
[ but rearranged anatomy
'might' have helped ]
and now ...
in this channel of modernity
we are freer
but not free
yet:
be thin. be sexy. be a goddess. be famous.
be
something else - anything else - anyone else
because you'll never be happy.
be delicate
demure
defined
refined. Hear the cries of "Boys will be boys" when a man
has a hard night out, chuckles of respect and
gentle reproach.
Contrast how we tear a sister down,
if she does the same. I do not hide
my sympathy for Paris or Nicole,
while agreeing behaviour bad - just, it
shouldn't vary by gender ...
consistency is all I seek.
escaping this prison does not
require we do everything
as a man might - as some men might -
but not all, for there are those
wise enough to meet us half-way
&
lace doesn't have to be burned -
just worn for the right reason
because we have strength enough
to handle the contradictions,
like corsets & me ...
I just wish I didn't love
that tightness,
quite so
much.
Adding your comment:
. Beautiful things they are.
