The Musings of a Modern Feminist

An amateur poet's take on feminism

Monthly Archives: September 2011

No poem today!


I apologise for today’s lack of poem but it’s been a busy week and I’ve had baaaaaaad writer’s block. But I have a long weekend so I should have something reasonable written for next week.

Is it impossible?


I would to apologise in advance for the unsatisfactory ending of this poem. That’s because it isn’t actually finished; I don’t have an answer yet. When I do, I will finish it properly. Anyway, here is Is it possible?: Part 1

Romance and feminism
Can they fit together?
Or are they just too different
Like lead and a bird’s feather?
Can I desire romance and the right
To be treated as truly human?
Must I sacrifice one in the fight
To gain the other?
When I speak and rant about my cause,
Am I pushing men away?
Should I, perhaps, stop a moment
And consider the other way?
Does being a feminist truly mean
That I cannot find ‘true love’?
Is this only to be seen?
Observed from afar?
Or is this merely an excuse?
A reason for my solitude?
Is it really any use
Trying to change a thing?
I do not have these answers yet
I really do not know.
I’ll return again a little wiser
But now it’s time to go.

P.S. I don’t normally do this, but I have been asked to do a little shout out. Happy birthday to a young Chinese (now) man in my form! May this 18th year bring you hope, happiness and peace.

I am sorry


As I have just turned 18, I have spent the last couple weeks doing some serious introspection…which isn’t easy…at all. After inspecting my thought processes and actions I haven’t particularly liked what I found. Therefore, this poem is something of an apology, but I would also like to apologise as it is incredibly self indulgent. I didn’t initially necessarily want the blog to be full of that sort of poetry but I have realised that this is somewhat impossible since this is a journey of self discovery (if you would permit the cliché). But I hope that this doesn’t effect only me, that I anot the only young feminist facing this dilemna. If I am, I’m not much of a feminist. If I’m not then I hope this provides some comfort and support to those facing similar problems. Also, sorry because it doesn’t read very well but I hope the sentiment comes across well enough. Well this was quite the preamble today, but anyway way I present ‘I am Sorry’.

If beauty is unimportant
If it is only ‘skin deep’
Then why do I keep
Trying to make it my own?
Why do I want to be seen as pretty
Over witty
Or charming
Or even kind?
This I find
To be a major problem.
‘Feminist’.
That is the word
Many a man has heard
On my lips
In my blog.
But now a fog
Clouds my mind
And makes me wonder,
What am I?
I do not fight
For women’s rights
To be treated like human beings.
Not when I deny
That very same cry
By desiring the things I claim to reject.
I have been silenced.
I have been bound
Indeed I have been found
Guilty of feeding the system.
I want to be sexy
I want men to find me
Attractive for my body before my mind.
I no longer want to sit alone
With my phone
Texting some random friend on a Friday night.
I don’t want the be the ‘3rd wheel’,
Left to feel
Alone, and unloved.
Yes, I have been tried.
And though I have tried
To defend my sisters,
I am not a solution
I merely add to the mental pollution
Of misogyny and sexism.
But nay, I shall not give in.
Yes, I am sorry for I sin
But does not every man?
I have been weak
But do we not all seek
From time to time that forbidden fruit?
So, I will continue to fight
For our right
To be seen as people before women.
And I promise you that I shall never ever be silenced
And neither shall I be bound.

Don’t believe the lies


I’m sorry for the late release, but I was at school so it took me ages to get round to the release. It isn’t my best work (it’s the first poem to have significant racial themes), but it isn’t too horrendous.

Don’t believe the lies.
My darlings we are worth more
Be neither used nor abused
That is not what we’re for.

We are told what we’re ‘worth’,
What we ‘should’ be,
Little more than sex dolls that speak
But that is not me.

I’m not an object to be used,
To give a man his fill.
That I will not swallow;
It is too bitter a pill.

What if I was gangly and sallow?
Or small, deformed, grotesque?
Would that make me any less of a person?
Would I be worth any less?

Since I’m black is the more,
Something extra that I should be?
Something dangerous, an animal, a tigress
Lithe but savage yet sexy?

For East Asians is there more?
Something else that you should be?
Submissive, always quiet, subservient
Polite and distant, yet sexy?

And for Latinas is there more?
Something extra that you should be?
Loud, mouthy, in-your-face
Exotic and boisterous, yet sexy?

My sisters you know this is not true,
There is nothing more you ‘should’ be,
Not savage nor quiet nor mouthy
You don’t even have to be sexy!

And so I tell you, please don’t give in.
If it takes a thousand tries
I will tell you once and once again,
Do not believe the lies!

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