when you scorn a woman,
you are the disapproving, authoritative voice of her father,
the scorn of every man who told her that she was too much,
every scarlet letter around her neck,
every stone cast from the crowd,
each guilty church leader who hung her out to dry
rather than expose their own fractured hypocrisy.

you are her ex husband bracing for a fight,
every boss who wanted their way whenever they desired
just to belittle her in the boardroom,

every snigger and every catcall
during every barefoot walk of shame.

every silver tongued boyfriend with pretty words and
wandering hands, one eye on the X-Box, the other
calculating just how long it would take to undo her bra
and how many games he could get in before dinner

you are every rolled eye,
every whisper behind half hidden hands,
every crack in her bones, every splinter in her heart,
every cry of her sisters who have endured
with their baited breaths and their
shaking blistered hands
as they try to repair the tears in the fabric
of their divinity, bleeding and burning in a
baptism of fury and fire.

Written by

Write the truest sentence you know. -Ernest Hemingway

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