This is not going to be a review for two reasons. One, I am utterly appalling at writing reviews. Ask anyone. Except you can’t, because no one’s ever read a review by me. Because they are crap. And two, I am obsessed with Caitlin Moran. I have nothing bad to say. And as we all know, a positive review is a boring one. We all (hopefully) saw my raving and, frankly, worrying post about Lena Dunham a few months back and this kind of sort of links to that. Read More »
Ode To Leelah
She. She. She
Was so beautiful.
Trapped, a soldier, a martyr.
She was strong. She was brave.
She. She. She
Was encaged, locked into this world
Misunderstood and forgotten.
Suffered in silence.
Brushed aside.
She is not he.
Lost in a world,
Where instinct
And inside mean nothing.
She fought too long, too hard
Undeserved pain, unrecognised.
She. She. She
Hurt by those
Supposed to love unconditionally,
She is not a beautiful story,
But she was beautiful.
She is not a tragic hero,
But a tragedy nonetheless.
She. She.
She.
I Come From
I come from an easy life,
Lack of hardship,
Lack of labour,
Food waiting on the table,
Teachers waiting in the classroom.
I come from not having to fight,
For my freedom, for my rights.
But I come from “boys will be boys”
And “don’t go out alone”
I come from keys poised between fingers.
I come from fear.
I come from believing
I must be perfect, complacent
Never outspoken, never bossy,
“You run like a girl!”
And “don’t be a p*ssy!”
I come from a world
Where my gender dictates
What I can do,
And more importantly what I cannot.
Be the princess
You cannot save yourself.
That’s for the prince.
Unfunny jokes,
Where I belong in the kitchen
And “you can’t wear that”
Why should I not do
What my brothers can?
Why must I always be the lady
To forget how to look after myself?
I come from anger.
I come from overprotection.
I come from a man’s world.
I come from fear, fear, fear.
