What Makes me Woman

What makes me woman?

What makes me woman

Besides the vulva, vagina,

Clitoris, and uterus that 

Lie between my thighs?

 

What makes me more woman

Than the boobs on my chest

Or the width of my hips?

Why does my ass make me

A woman?

 

I’m sorry, do these words make

You uncomfortable?

Tit, breast, boob;

Coochie, vagina, clit.

 

Does my expression towards

The discretion of my own fucking

Body

Make you mad?

 

What makes me woman

But being catcalled for the

First time at age eleven.

 

What makes me woman

But hearing the word rape for

The first time at age ten.

 

I had nightmares for months

About what my body could

Provide even if I didn’t want it

To provide anything but

Kindness.

 

What makes me woman

But being told to cover up

When my shorts were more than a 

Dollar-bill width above the knee

Or when the other kids

Looked up my shorts on

The monkey bars.

 

God, forgive me for having

The body you gave me;

I’m not asking for it

Rather than trying not to

Become another goddamn

Statistic.

 

I still hear the word rape

And no longer am I scared—

Well, I am, but pepper spray and

Tasers are illegal in this state,

So I have to pretend not to be—

But I am fucking angry.

 

I’m angry because a woman

I consider my sister was being

Molested for years by her

Own fucking cousin,

And I listened to the stories of

Her taking bottles of pills

And how she nearly jumped off

An overpass.

 

I’m angry because a woman

Who is a close friend of mine

Was groomed online—twice.

She was already trying not to

Kill herself, but now I can’t blame

Her for wanting to.

 

I’m angry because a woman,

My cousin at my age,

Was drugged, beat up, and

Raped.

She tried to kill herself at a

Church camp two weeks later.

 

So what makes me woman

But the shit between my legs

Or on my chest or ass or hips.

 

What makes me woman

But combing through the news

Every day, praying the next

Girl is not someone I know.

 

What makes me woman

But hoping they’ll look for my

Body if a man were to rape me.

 

Oh, that word makes you

Uncomfortable?

 

Too. Fucking. Bad.

 

Being raped is fucking

Uncomfortable.

 

Being woman is fucking

Uncomfortable. 

 

So being woman is not a

Clit or uterus or whatever

Things are on my body

That men claim are theirs.

 

What makes me woman is

Keys between my knuckles;

I am woman because of my

Fear;

 

What makes me woman

Is the fact that any day,

My world could shatter by

The hands of man.