(Wo)man

And were I born

To prying eyes, be I a girl of any design.

I was taught, to not spread my legs too wide, to sit straight, skirt not too long, strength not too strong,

Beneath the foot of a ravenous boy, is where I belong.

I was taught to swallow down my anger like poison, be quiet, darling, you said.

Hush your cries, hide your frown.

Be not you upset of the purple scars around your neck, or the dent on the side of your cheek, underneath layers of false happy, let it seep.

For upset is not a luxury for a woman to keep.

I was taught the architecture of the world through prison bars, I was taught to scratch off my battle scars. I was taught and taught to shut the blinds to my sisters gobbled down like stolen food, be she of any blood. Like the daily weather reports, news of her being chewed down does flood.

I was taught to be silent, even when my body bled, even when my back hurt,

I was taught to keep my lips sealed, even when my body,

Now not much mine,

Was dictated by strangers.

For the devil’s children are God’s gift, you said.

In crimson reds do you write the lines I dread.

I was taught not to shout too loud,

Even when my life was on a ban,

At last,

Do I use my voice, a century and a thousand suppressions old,

To ask if it would be the same,

Had I been a man?

The writer is a 10th grader at SFX Greenherald International School.