“Perhaps Women were once so dangerous that they HAD to have their feet bound.” by Maxine Kingston
I’m not the same girl who wore her hair like Princess Leia, even though she was rounder and chubbier than the hairstyle of a bun on each side of the head thing would really work for….I’m not her anymore.
I’m not the same girl who you used to tease for being smart or for studying or for just being chubby. She isn’t here anymore.
I’m not the same young woman, who you said couldn’t possibly have talent and must have gotten the lead role because she was a whore. Yeah, I’m not that girl.
I’m not the girl who hates herself so much she cries herself to sleep and longs for some sense of belonging.
I’m someone else. I used my Princess Leia hair to fashion a magic ride to some far away land, between the pages of a book, between the lines of poetry that I wrote. I used my chubby body to study my way to greatness, to smart my way to cities far and wide.
I’m not the whore you shamed into silence. I’m not the girl who let her teacher touch her, simply because she was afraid no one else would.
I am Athena, I am Helen, I am Juliet, I am Hermione, I am Catherine, I am Emily, Jane, Emma, and Edith too.
I write because I am.
For all the Mad Women in the Attics of society, of their own minds, of the short sightedness of other’s minds…..Rise Up.
An original poem, by me, Kathryn Cody
They never thought we’d walk again,
never dreamed that under their oppressive gauze
we would wriggle our mangled toes
Rising up, we left our attics and our asylums–
a lurching monster, dragging toes and breasts,
limping and scraped from the Fall.
On our backs we carried our whalebone crosses.
They tried to stop us.
They sent us away to bleed,
sent us away to birth,
afraid of the rich vulva and all her secrets.
But somewhere in a whorehouse,
after the last fucking,
dormant Eve awoke
and went in search of fruit.