Voices are rusty.
unused and unsure
a cacophony of croaking, spoken words that sound a little bit like freedom and a lot like finally.
Rising up from the fire, women everywhere are confirming what we've known all along.
Your mom's best friend. Me, too.
Your soccer coach, your sorority sister. Me, too.
The girl down the street, the girl in the grocery store, the woman you see every morning at work.
Like some kind of tidal wave that bludgeons entire generations and entire suppositions, this force - this chant - has driven out the darkness for so many women.
A platform was built by all of the women who have come before - who have endured in the before - and who will hold them up with warm, unflappable hands, as they stand there and as they point their fingers and call out
Wildly hesitant. Wildly true.
[Is it too true? Too much? Too hard to watch women untie the mask that's been covering their faces for decades, days, weeks, seconds? Too hard to see the resolve settle behind their green irises, their teeth clench, and their deep, cleansing breaths? Is it just too much truth?]
It is not a broken record, it is not a forever refrain, and it is not
Where have all the good men gone is not a cliche; it's an actual question.
Because give us the men that have respect and honor in their mouths, on their tongues, in their eyes, and in their hands. Give us the men that ask first.
Give us the men that listen in their bones to the answer.
Give us the men that respond with
I see you.
I see you.
I see you reach down into the bags and boxes of your life's memories, and I see you pull up snapshots of calamity written down on some kind of worn clipboard and I will watch as you start crossing things off.
I see you, the good ones will whisper.
Holding a pencil with trembling hands, they will see you look down at the sheet of paper titled, "Me, too," and they will watch as you take a deep breath and call out -
Kick it with that.
Knock one out.
You will cross these violent things off of your list, while whispering inaudibly to yourself about rape culture.
Being a man does not automatically make you a hunter or a breaker, a beater or a leaver.
And being a woman doesn't automatically mean that you are gasoline.
Being a woman does not automatically mean
that you are here solely
to light someone's fire.
So when you hear a woman softly, defiantly say,
"Me, too" -
You are hearing her say that
she doesn't take up too much space
she doesn't need to be tamed, tamped
she doesn't need you to tell her to smile, pretty girl
she doesn't need you.
. About Moi .
I love, love, love flannel sheets and I am really passionate about lists on post it notes and most of the time I'm sad that no one else is as excited as I am about Diet Mountain Dew. I also adore run-on sentences.
He saw her before he saw
anything else in the room.
- F. Scott Fitzgerald
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