I am woman and I (get) fucked.

I ponder on feminism, I reflect on my inequality

I see you looking at me, I quiver, I subsume

I let you in my bed, where not many go but I let you

I am haunted by the ghost of my old, broken heart

The pieces run around the room, spinning along with my head

You grab my hand, you touch my face, you kiss me and I follow

I try to fight, to be there as an equal, I make the effort to determine the situation

You grab my hand, you push me down and I give in, tired and drunk, I give in

 

We wake up in the morning and everything is spinning indeterminate

You will walk away, the way others have, the way I have

You will determine the situation;

You will leave me wondering and you will walk in confidence

You will take out the roots of my first love, and plant collective absence

Opening the window to a myriad of conditions that

Will confirm that I’m right in fighting for my rights, for my equality

And my friends who do not wish to call themselves ‘feminists’ will be right,

‘This is what men do’, they say; ‘This is what guys are’, they say.

 

And I will be tired, so tired because I fight everyday

Against your right not to be thought of as an asshole because you have a penis

Against the giant, blood sucking, constraining monsters of capital,

Against the destroyed past and destitute present of (neo)-coloniality

I want my language; I want to be woman without your negation

I fight next to you, I fight with you, at moments we are ‘we’ -man

But then you walk-man and I follow-man

Out of trust? Out of my own oppression? Out of your unquestioned privilege-man?

 

I am woman and I (get) fucked again

This time I thought it could be real and it was,

But the ‘real’ was you blinding me, telling me to leave in the morning

My eyes displayed blurry memories of the previous night

I tried to understand, I tried to defend, I tried and now I am tired

How I hoped the constellations that instead of living above me asphyxiate me did not exist

How I hoped I didn’t need to be a feminist,

How I hoped the personal needn’t be political

 

And I fight with you too, next to you comrade- man

And we speak of the socialist future, of the socialist present

I tell you about Trotsky and Gramsci

And about theorizing the hegemony of rich, white, men

I cite the relevant sections of Capital and tell you why Marx is right

Why I disagree with orthodoxy and prefer heterodoxy

We argue about socialism and bourgeois morality

I tell you how I think gender can be material yet find feminist socialism problematic

I tell you about class as a cultural concept underpinned and reproduced materially

Yet I am woman and I (get) fucked

Yet I am woman and I feel ashamed, insecure of my body

Yet I am woman and you get to walk

You get to tell me about the one you actually love,

You get to chose you don’t want a relationship

I only get to listen, to accept, never to chose

What is the equality we fight for, are ‘we’ fighting for the same one-man?

Are we seeing in Lenin the same tradition?

Have you read Luxembourg?

Have you read De Beauvoir?

Have you read Susan B. Anthony?

Have you ever listened to me, have you ever chosen to humanize me-man?

 

I am woman and I (get) fucked no longer

I wish to be proud to be a woman; I wish to be proud to speak my language

I wish to be a socialist,

I wish to smash capitalism with my fist

I wish you to listen! To question! To look at me!

And see an equal.

 

Anonymous

 

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One Response to I am woman and I (get) fucked.

  1. Pingback: Nikolaus « HAMBURGLIEBE

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