Black cement snaking on,
wind blows under humming tires as they pass over the road, once a river. A yellow light beating on refineries and factories Silence is meant not heard as millions mechanically fly together clanking in separate clawed cages on a road, blackened and used, signs with nothing but words litter the surface, hairline fractures lie just below in wait How imperfect, how fitting is a road slicing through mountains And on roads we skid, we fly, we illuminate our illusion of control by metal screws and whittling paths in wilderness Maybe, we think the cement immortal, maybe we think us the same, melted to the wheel, but yellow lines and scattered white painted by methodical hands can be melted and the trees, blurred together by breakable windows; They breathe.
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I cannot stop thinking about what happened to my friend and I yesterday. We were walking down the street when some guy rolled down his window and screamed “looking good ladies, nice *insert offensive word for breast that I cannot say on the Lit mag.*” Now, this happens to girls often, and I normally would go home and forget about it. But I cannot forget. Because when this man drove past, I responded with my customary finger. My friend responded “thank you.”
Dear friend, Catcalling is never a compliment. When that guy rolled down his car window and talked about your curves, he sexulized you. He drove by and made you just breasts and thighs and soft. He took away everything, stripped you of your person. He objectified you. Do not thank him for that. You are good and you are funny. You like olives with everything. You snort when you laugh too hard, and you are petty sometimes. You hate romcoms, but cannot sit through a horror movie. You don’t like fighting with your mom, but will argue with anyone else who you deem as wrong. Sometimes you fall asleep in class. I have only seen you cry twice. You like soft blankets and some pretty terrible music. All of this goes to say that you are human. You are a person. You are more than your breasts and thighs and softness. You are amazing. That man walked by you and took all of that away. He reduced you to your skin, and you do not deserve to have that happen. So when he drove by the appropriate response was not to thank him. And, I understand that you did not thank him because you wanted to, but because this society has trained you to thank him. You have been told that being objectified is good because it makes you easier to swallow and then spit back out. You have been taught that the best you can achieve is beauty: no one knows who Marie Curie, the only woman who has won the nobel prize twice, but Kim Kardashian is praised simply because of her looks. How many little girls have posters on their walls of airbrushed models and unrealistic princesses? That song, Que Sera Sera, goes “will I be pretty?” as if all that a little girl should aspire to be is beautiful. Freak that. You can be and are so much more than pretty. So when anyone reduces you to just your looks, be offended. When someone sexulizes you, do not thank them. i can see you.
i can feel each word, on my tongue. i pound, i scream, i beg, to be free. to be heard. you can see me too. but at the same time you don't. you look past, seeing only yourself. turn off the leave. withdraw from the room. and leave me trapped. bruising my fists, above the bathroom sink. i tap a finger to the glass. cracking the mirror, while you sleep. i enter the room. i occupy your dreams. we must no longer beg to be heard, in our dreams. we are free. I start more than 70% of my mornings standing in front of the United States flag, pledging my allegiance to our “nation under God, with liberty and justice of all.” Even in a public school, it is suggested every morning that the United States and God are connected in a way.
The Puritans also believed this about the New World, and their colonization of it. They were doing God’s work, and their “city upon a hill” was going to be the first step in purifying, and saving, the entire Earth. They were the only ones who could save us from this corruption; the were exceptional. It seems that since then, we have not stopped talking about how we are exceptional. God said that we could go to the West, stealing the Indian’s land. Then, when the whole God thing got old, we realized that we were the best because we were the only democracy, and the most moral of countries. We were kings, no presidents, back upon our hill. We are so special in fact, that we can invade other countries so they will have our type of government, the right type of government. I am sorry, did that last comment seem a little sarcastic? It was. But, I do believe that the United States is different than other countries. We are number one in amount of people incarcerated people per 100,000, anxiety disorders, guns per person (there is nearly one for every man, woman and child!) and drone strikes according to the Washington Post. Gosh, I can almost feel the exceptional running through my veins. The notion that one country, our country, was founded because God wanted it to be so, is ridiculous. Now, even if it was, that would not excuse us to force our ways onto others. The United States is like a spoiled child who still believes that it is a special snowflake. Only, unlike children, we have an army, a sense of righteous that serves us only when oil is involved, and the despite the fact that it shut down, the best government ever. We are dangerous. Join me if you will in a chant: U.S.A, U.S.A, U.S.A. That fervor in your heart may be an oncoming heart attack. We are not exceptional, but at least we are arrogant enough to believe we are. |