It is never untimely to speak up about the issues in rape culture. For those unaware of the definition, rape culture is normalizing sexual assault and abuse. As in, blaming the victim of assualt with a list of excuses that doesn’t fault the attacker in the slightest. A couple events inspired me to write this poem. Emily Doe as well as a girl I will not name, but I’ve known her for years and seeing her ultimately distressed at the sight of her attacker brings me nothing but anger. In school, I’d noticed her loud and happy voice lower until she wouldn’t even show up for days at time. These girls have been violated in every sense of the word and the first reactions put them at fault. Is that ever okay? Sexual assualt is in the hands of an attacker and it tears away a large portion of the victims’ lives. As far as I’m concerned: No means no, and unconcious means definitely not.
It doesn’t require a gun
to take someone’s life.
She doesn’t have to conscious for her Earth to turn to nothing but dirt.
She can wake up and suddenly the shining sun is a burning fire,
and walking down the stairs is walking into a grave.
When she wakes they mutter, “You were dancing so provocatively.”
She mutters, “I wasn’t awake.”
They mutter, “He was aching for you.”
She mutters, “I wasn’t awake.”
They scream, “His career is at stake!”
He thinks he’s the victim of being called a rapist
but she is the victim of a rapist
and that fact alone
does not suffice.
It matters none
that she is now a body
tugging the rest of
her heart
her hope
her happiness
behind her in a bright yellow wagon.
“No, no, no, she was a virgin and now she has experience.”
“No, no, no, she slept with the football team so she couldn’t possibly mind adding one more to the fun.”
“No, no, no, she told me she wanted it.”
“Well–what did she say?”
“She smiled.”
There is nothing
she desires more
than to replant herself completely
but twenty minutes of action
is not enough
to kill her entire flower.
It is just enough
to rip a few petals from her flower.
Growing petals from a stem
is assigning personality
based on looks.
You can’t glance in a book
and read how to regrow yourself
when half of you is on the shelf.
But she’s desperate to try again
so she rips out her stem
and plants her seed in cement
because the place she’s been growing in
is far too unsafe
so she is forced
to put her faith
into a place
that will tighten around her life
but she can’t tell the difference.
They say
he meant to love but cut
and hug but choked.
Soon she’d be in the ground
because he’d bury her
in so much love.
But she got away with only a few petals lost
and has to deal with the
absence of beauty
he plucked from her flower.
And this new life
that he forced down her throat
somehow reverses
and suddenly his mistakes
are ripped clothes to be sewn back together
and justice is debated on whether
her clothes
were easy enough to rip.
