Poetry

Objectified

I have worn this sign hereSince the age of thirteenIt says
© 2018

Objectified

I have worn this sign here
Since the age of thirteen
It says “open” I guess
Because it’s like all eyes on me
No longer a girl because a boy may want me
Not quite a woman, but that’s not how the world sees me
I quit being a “her” and became a “that”
An object it seems, that they thought they could have
Mace for my purse, flashlight to check my backseat
In case someone stronger desires a treat.
Every walk alone became a dare
In case someone “weak” liked my clothes or my hair
No longer willing to go out by myself,
Because of a chance “you can’t help yourself”
They call me “B” if I don’t smile or laugh
Call me “tease” if I don’t fall in their trap
It’s because I live in a world much different than you,
That I don’t take your threats to be flirtatious or cute
Must watch my drink, what I wear, what I say
For being a woman is a dangerous game to play
While thousands in whispers hold up their #MeToo’s
Voices grow stronger, and the message grows
Victims, and survivors everyone knows
Some women fear of living in the spotlight
Hostage of our bodies that we must try to hide,
Cover up, or run the risk to be objectified
That’s why we resist, and hold up our signs.

© Hannah Truelove


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