we are taught to be complicit in our own dehumanization
i was good,
though i was born with mens eyes
crawling on my skin like ants,
following me through the grocery store.
i was good, i was 5 the first time
i was told to close my legs,
sitting on the couch the same
way as my brothers,
told not to "distract" my brothers,
it wasn't ladylike
to be a child.
i was good,
i was 8 when i decided i hated skirts
and dresses,
and legs,
mostly mine,
mostly the way i felt naked in them-
dresses, skirts, legs,
and my own skin.
i had to be modest,
for it was a greater sin to be
a temptress than tempted-
i was 11 scratching at my skin
as if i could peel off the oil
of their ex-ray vision,
i covered up to leave something
to the imagination,
i covered up because they
wanted something to imagine.
at 12 i was good
and they started calling me a young woman,
my body grew to attract
different men,
i had the hips of a woman
and the knobby knees of a child,
i was 14 when the first boy confessed,
breath shaky with nervousness
holding me,
breathing me in like he was starving,
like i was something to be consumed.
surrounded by boys and men alike
both making promises and eating me alive
with the same mouths,
and then i was 16
and one boy took it too far
and didn't let me say no.
LET me say no,
because
i was only 4 when
the illusion of control was first shattered,
and i knew
i only chose what to do with my body
because that day,
a man was generous enough
to decide i could.
i was 18 when i first chose to sexualize myself-
i finally gave them what they begged for,
and the day they could no longer take it from me,
when i stood in my own skin
and met their eyes they could
no longer rape me with,
i was used up,
i was no longer good.
Copyright © rue hodgdon | Year Posted 2024
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