How Dare They

how dare they

tell her what she may be

born, dead or un-free

how dare they

tell her not to whistle

or how her mouth curls sexily

as she speaks of freedom

from their bottled notions of beauty

how dare they tell her

what shape her breasts

with which she fed her daughter

fondled in pleasure and held in pain

must and can be

how dare they tell her what to wear

and where and how on her body

to wear it- the cloth must go

over the bottom, not her head,

the legs must go through the holes

and the denim must be tight

here or not just there

how dare they tell her

where she must sit and with whom

and for how long

how dare they tell her

just as she raises a foot

there is a threshold that she must not cross

how dare they draw a line before her

and lie to her about the fact

that her body, her needs, her screams

of joys or rage to her alone belong

how dare they modulate her pitch

with a ‘whore’, ‘crazy’ or ‘bitch’

how dare they not acknowledge

the truth that what they think

is their right is a plain wrong

how dare they not know

it is not their place

to tell her about her place

anywhere and everywhere

is hers to stand upon

how dare they teach her

that it is ok for them

to touch, lean, grab, interrupt,

ogle, explain, insert, thrust,

cut, sidle up, sell, threaten,

brush against, tear, pierce, dismiss,

lock up, push, patronize, reduce, rape,

or take what is not theirs- never theirs

but hers and hers alone

how dare they mask it as

‘respect’, ‘tradition’, ‘culture’

when it is hate, colonization, murder

and burglary in plain sight

how dare they make her fight

for what ought to be

as taken for granted as

the air we breathe to survive

how dare they pretend to not know

when their every act of depravity shows

that they are afraid that the end

to the war on women

called patriarchy, is in sight

she is here to burn doubt

glow in its ember’s light

as she seizes back

her every stolen right