Posts tagged womyn poem fuckyeah

The poem below comes from a wonderful bay area sister and freedom fighter. To see more of her work check out beautyinthebr0ken.tumblr.com.

I spell womyn with a Y

W-O-M-Y-N

Merriam-Webster tells me it should be

W-O-M-A-N, singular

Now I don’t know what the A stands for

Because despite the fact that acceptance and affirmation are in the same section of the dictionary

Ambiguity still lurks in the background

Telling us that we accept the love we think we deserve

And affirm ourselves only when no one else is around

Because that A also stands for afraid

You, with your bright eyes and unmarked palms

That have not yet felt the burden of falling too hard in love

What are you so afraid of?

Sometimes we search too hard for courage

When we simply need to remember self-worth

I spell womyn with a Y

Merriam-Webster tells me it should be

W-O-M-E-N, plural

Now I don’t know what the E stands for

Perhaps Eve, for the one God fashioned from the rib of a man

Eve, who came second because God saw fit to create a companion for man

Eve, who ate from the Tree of Knowledge and brought sin onto us all

But have you ever considered the idea that

God made Eve second because He fucked up when He made Adam?

So this E, this rounded vowel that falls softly between D and F

Reminds me of the emptiness that comes after disappointment

But when you think you’ve fallen from grace

Remember the freedom that comes with starting over

I spell womyn with a Y

W-O-M-Y-N

Someone once asked me about chromosomes

“Aren’t womyn XX

And men XY

So by spelling womyn with a Y

You’re still claiming men as part of the word?”

I looked at him and wanted to say

“No, you incompetent, ignorant idiot” 

But then I might be told not to get emotional

Because this Y in womyn

See how it’s symmetrical, the little stem falling softly down the center

Dividing it into two sides

A double standard, if you will

For the way men are assertive when they raise their voice

But womyn are on their period, given over to their emotions with no choice 

A double standard

For the way I am expected to craft my femininity in ways that highlight not my

Humor or intellect or strength

But my cheekbones and cleavage and thighs

Because I’m never as beautiful as make-up can make me up to be

But I spell womyn with a Y

So my thickest armor

Is not the foundation MAC sells

But the hope coated on thick for resilience

For learning from experience

For realizing the distance

You put between you were and who you are

Look how far you’ve come

From the girl left crying in a cold stairwell

Because the bottom had dropped from underneath her feet

To the warrior you are now

Knees bruised, eyeliner smudged, but hands steady

Ready to take the taste of you from my identity

A womyn made not in the image of man

But in the image of her mother

Because there is no other

Who can be stronger

So I spell womyn with a Y

Because heartbreak is universal

And what keeps me going

Is not the ways in which you told me no

But the ways in which I will tell myself yes

See, I’ve got a lifetime of stereotypes to disprove

Like the fact that men are not men

If they fight like a girl

But yes, I fight like a girl

I fight like a girl whose mother raised her single-handedly

So I know a thing or two about survival

I fight like a girl who’s felt an unwanted tongue between her legs

So I know something about resistance

I fight like a girl who knows the power of a single letter

So next time you look at my breasts instead of my eyes

Think again

Because I spell womyn with a Y