Things I want to say to the men that made paper dolls out of me only to set them on fire:
1. When you mix one part sacrifice, three parts anger and two-thirds of gods whose names are too dirty, too non-sacrificial to be mentioned. You get the makings of a war too vile to be recorded in history books.
2. When I was sixteen, during an argument of whose turn it will be to travel the hour long journey to see the other, you said I was as ugly as Whoopi Goldberg. I should have said “fuck you”. Fuck you for daring to equate blackness and darkness to ugly. Fuck you for daring to speak Whoopi and ugly in the same sentence. Fuck you for making me believe I was ugly and not good enough…but instead I laughed it off, and you won, and I came back to you the following week.
3. For the man that cheated on me because he “needed someone to cook and clean up after him”. You should have hired a maid. You should have done your own dishes and your own laundry. Or did your mother not teach you that cleanliness and godliness are one and the same thing? But I forget that your father is a descendant of men that love with their hands on their women’s throats. I forget you learnt nothing but ego, grew nothing but pride in your heart from watching him smash your sisters’ heads on coffee tables.
4. Unfairness: a poem
The man with the potbelly and the seductive gap tooth drugs me to his room.
He tears my pants off,
Rejects the only form of protection a woman can muster when traversing cities she is not home to and says,
“Let’s build a war”
I fail to conjure up enough sense of humour to bind the war starting between my legs and
“Walk it off”.
5. I have heard there is sometimes life in abandoned bodies. Something between a tremor and an earthquake.
6. Is a war still a war if only one person is fighting?
Is my silence creating hollow spaces in your chest,
Or has it become the air within which your roses bloom?
7. There was once a woman that raised a mad man for a son.
There was once a me that loved a sane woman’s mad son.
I apologise for the digression. Such is my mind.