Woman in America
I am a woman in America.
My autonomy is debated in rooms where I am not welcomed
By people who don’t know me.
I am a woman in America.
I can never walk home alone,
But if I must
I clutch the end of a key in between my knuckles
When out on the streets at night.
I am a woman in America.
My goals, achievements and successes are undermined
By vulgar catcalls and objectifications
Meant to punish me for standing too tall.
I am a woman in America.
I am criticized for being too thin
For being too fat
For being too short
For having small breasts
For being too loud
For being too opinionated
For wearing too much makeup
For not wearing enough
For being too girly
For being a tomboy.
Where does it end?
Where does my life begin?
I am smarter than most.
I work harder than most
But will likely never have a salary
As impressive as your brother’s job in finance.
I am a woman in America.
I pay a luxury tax
For goods that help me survive,
A bodily process that is indeed not a luxury.
I am a woman in America.
I am harassed for being a pretty girl
And for being an ugly girl.
The first person to tell me to stay away from men
Was my father.
He told me people would try to hurt me.
I never understood what he meant
Until I felt it for the first time.
I fight every day to stay alive
But no matter how hard I try,
Someone is always pushing my head into the sand.
But I know why –
It’s because I am a woman in America.
And just like many others,
I fear I will never know peace.
Strike Out,
Writer: Ellie Dover
Editor: Gianna Rodriguez
Athens