It is easy to call this a moment not a movement if you do not live in its claustrophobic realities

if misogyny does not hold your neck in between its fingertips, breathing down your neck, flirting with your sanity

Some call us  
the easily startled
even easier to stir up
reactions from these sensitive hands are not easy to strike up
you say it like insult
we say thank you for the compliment
this lack of obedience is just the start of our rebellion.

your world cannot normalize rape culture in hopes of silencing every survivor
your shaming tactics hold no validity here

We say
This body?
My body.
This tongue?
My tongue.
These hands?
My hands.

Our vocal chords choke trying to speak up but we still speak up even if it is through

gritted teeth and m u m b l e d tongues

Some days my courage is measured by not walking away from the boy who assaulted me when I see him in the school hallways

On the best days it is lifting my sisters up instead of down like I have always been taught to do

Most days it is this poetry and these words drenched in the fiber of this fiery existence.

Some Days there is no courage just empty stretches in time filled with indescribable screeching in my head

I become a rib cage of insanity-

every part of femininity stamped weak

the midnight sobbing

and naive kindness

today I reclaim those vulnerabilities
and say-

F*** you.

You do not know strength like the heat in my belly.
there are torches where my fingers should be and spiders in my lungs
watch me cough them up for dinner in this self sufficient nature I have developed survival tactics that overpower your want to destroy them.

in a world constantly trying to kill the women in us
in a world tailored to fit one type of body and mind
we say

f*** you
and we reclaim the ability to exist
however
the hell
we
want.