Gut Check: A Poem

I attended the 2009 Take Back the Night poetry slam, originally planning on politely listening to the poetry offered by others. Toward the end, though, I got up the guts after a few, "do you have something to read?"'s. I ended up reading this poem, which I wrote in Spring 2008. I wrote it to sort out some issues I had with religion and femininity, after a particularly interesting discussion I had with my Intro to Religion professor, Dr. Loren Lybarger. 

It's called "Gut Check."

The eyes are the windows to the soul 
Yet this woman reveals hers to me, 
the only part of her body she allows me to see.

Age twelve, she screams. 
not of the pain of the knife 
but of the pain of losing what's being cut from her:
womanhood, sexuality, independence. 

Is it modesty? piety? tradition, religion.
Is it her choice? 

This woman cannot tell her own story; 
others interpret her fears, ambitions, pain.
They tell it for her. 

"She loves her veil."
"No,she hates it." 
it protects her.
no, it silences her. 

She is not the object 
of the guerilla's unyeilding desires – 
a comfort. 

At what cost must this comfort come? 
To have a voice, 
to embrace her womanhood, 
is forbidden. 

Is she happy? 
I suppose I couldn't know, 
me, the submissive, modest young woman, 
ashamed of mine.

I could cradle myself
in a nest of swaddling black robes, 
peek my eyes out 
and immerse myself in her role, 
be contented, feel relieved. 

But would she, in my baggy sweaters, 
shake herself free?
Does she crave a voice 
as I hide mine? 

Do her eyes reveal the womanhood 
I try to cover, 
veiling my curves, 
my voice, 
myself?



The book Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi includes lots of comical (and serious) commentary on the subject of the veil during the Iranian Revolution.
If you haven't already...read it. Posted below is a video of Satrapi, discussing the implications of her book and the movie on the way those who've read it view Iranians. 





"it's a movie about love, about family, about the human being"
--marjane satrapi

The "F" Word: Does "Feminism" = "F Men?"

"Out of the dorms and into the streets, we won't be raped we won't be beat!"

"Whatever we wear, wherever we go: yes means yes and no means no!"

"Women unite! Take back the night!"

TAKE BACK THE NIGHT [march and rally] 2009: Thursday, April 23

7 p.m.  [West Portico]

Women of athens speak out against domestic violence and sexual assault

(See this link for more details)

The women who met at West Portico as dusk was setting in were of all ages, races, sexual orientations, majors, income levels and education levels. They were of all body types. They had red, brown, blond, purple, and black hair. And they were all there for the same reason: very loudly and very publicly announce to the residents of athens that domestic violence and sexual assault against women must end.

The rally began with a speeches from women activists who highlighted such statistics as:

1/4 college-age women will be victims of sexual assault or attempted sexual assault

only 5% will report an incident of sexual assault to police

The goal of this was obviously to raise awareness: of the women there, each one surely had to realize how many around them had suffered such injustices. 

A man with a braided beard and whispy brown hair down to his shoulders stood quietly in the back. A sign hung around his shoulders, black , jagged sharpie letters on neon orange poster board: "men are victims too"

Few in the crowd paid him much attention.

A 5th-year senior came to the stage. "it's one thing to hear statistics," she said. "but i am the face. i'm the one in four or the one in six." 

After a speech from the organizer of the "sideline support," a group of men whose role is to encourage the women during their march, the women began their silent walk down jeff hill, holding lit candles in memory of women who lost their lives as a result of domestic violence or sexual assault. 

Tears were shed. Arms were linked. University photographers lined the sidewalks as they captured the intimate grievances of the marchers on film, soon to make their pain public: "I am marching for my mother," one face might say. another, "I am leaving him." some might be mere supporters with no first-hand experience of domestic violence or sexual assault, and therefore little concept of what this march meant to the women around them. 

It was all very moving. 

But what came next moved me, as it seemed at the time, into a completely different dimension of reality. 

Once these women had released the sadness inside of them, what remained? Candles were blown out, women were handed pieces of paper with "chant" lyrics, and the anger came out.

"1,2,3,4 I am not your fucking whore!

5,6,7,8 Why don't you go masturbate!"

...

Anger.

It has infused some of the most powerful demonstrations around the world. It evokes a Malcom X sort of feeling. The women who were expressing this anger definitely have the right to feel it (who can take away a human being's right to feel a certain emotion?). The experience of expressing that anger was liberating. You could see it in the way they yelled, in the way they cried, in the way they held onto each other as they rounded the corner of court and washington streets.

This demonstration was undoubtedly empowering for many women who participated. It might have even been scary, a leap of faith. Some might have "come out" that night, revealing to friends that they, too, had been victims of sexual assault.

This demonstration undoubtedly made men, women, bisexuals, lesbians, and transsexuals think about the rights and wrongs of expressing dissent, and dealing with conflicts in their relationships.

But here are my questions for you: did this rally and march speak out against domestic violence and sexual assault, or did it perpetuate it?

Can women's voices not only be heard, but be taken seriously, in the form of indignant anger?

I am of the opinion that women's voices must be heard. they must speak out, and those who listen must take them seriously. If men are put off by the anger that was demonstrated in the rally, perhaps it is because they have never experienced the pain these women have experienced. there is a reason for this anger. that reason must be addressed. 

But perhaps there is a reason it is not being addressed. Perhaps the indignant anger is getting in the way of the listening.

How can I possibly know what these women were feeling when they shouted those words? How can anybody know, except the women themselves? And how can anybody know, except for the men who heard these words from their houses and apartments, what it felt like to hear those words? 

For those men who walked out into the sunlight to hear such angry and demeaning words come from their peers, the "F" word has essentially been equated to "F men." 

I am of the opinion that the man with the whispy brown hair deserves a hug.

I am a feminist. next year I plan to take back the night with my compassion. Thank you to the men who have treated me well, and shown me what I deserve. 

I am a feminist.