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