Barrett thank you so much for the
introduction I say it to the door um
this is probably the coolest thing that
I’ve ever gotten to do so I’m so excited
to be here also how many people have
been to a poetry slam ever well that’s
so exciting great
so you know that during poetry Sims
people are allowed to react the audience
can snap if you’re feeling something you
can like make an animal noise I don’t
care what you do my favorite one is like
mmm that’s what I like to do but yeah so
if you want to do that that’s super cool
if not I also won’t be offended but I
have three poems for you today
and I’m really excited to do them
because as a young woman I don’t often
get to feel powerful and when I perform
my poetry I get to feel powerful so
thank you for giving me the space
pocket-sized feminism the only other
girl at the party is ranting about
feminism the audience a sea of rape
jokes and snapbacks and styrofoam cups
and me they gawk in her mouth like it is
a drain clogged with too many opinions I
shoot her an empathetic glance and say
nothing this house is for wallpaper
women what good is wallpaper that speaks
I want to stand up but if I do whose
coffee table silence will these boys
rest their feet on these boys I want to
stand up but if I do what if someone
takes my spot I want to stand up but if
I do what if everyone notices i’ve been
sitting this whole time i’m ashamed of
keeping my feminism in my pocket until
it is convenient not to like it poetry
slams or women’s studies classes there
are days I want people to like me more
than I want to change the world
once I forgave a predator because I was
afraid to start drama and our friend
group two weeks later he assaulted
someone else I am still carrying the
guilt in my purse there are days I
forget we had to invent nail polish to
change colour and drug drinks and apps
to virtually walk us home in lipstick
shaped Mason underwear designed to
prevent rape once a man behind me on an
escalator shoved his hand up my skirt no
one around me said anything so I didn’t
say anything because I didn’t want to
make a scene once an adult man made a
necklace out of his hands for me and I
still wake up in hot sweats haunted with
images of the herd of girls he assaulted
after I didn’t report all younger than
me how am I to forgive myself for doing
nothing in the mouth of trauma his
silence not an act of violence to once I
told the boy I was powerful and he told
me to mind my own business once a boy
accused me of practicing misandry you
think you can take over the world and I
said no I just want to see it I just
need to know it is there for someone
once my dad informed me sexism is dead
and reminded me to always carry pepper
spray in the same breath we accept this
state of
constant fear is just another component
of being a girl we text each other when
we get home safe and it does not occur
to us that not all of our guy friends
have to do the same you could literally
you could literally saw a woman in half
and it would still be called a magic
trick wouldn’t it that’s why you invited
us here isn’t it because there is no
show without a beautiful assistant we
are surrounded by boys who hang up our
naked posters and fantasize about
choking us and watch movies we get
murdered in we are the daughters of men
who warned us about the news and the
missing girls on the milk carton in the
sharp edge of the world they begged us
to be careful to be safe then told our
brothers to go out and play thank you
when the fat girl gets skinny the year
of skinny pop and sugar-free jell-o cups
we guzzled vitamin water in vodka
toasting to highschool in survival
complementing each other’s collarbones
trying diets we found on the internet
menthol cigarettes eating in front of a
mirror donating blood replacing meals
with other practical hobbies like making
flower crowns or fainting wondering why
I haven’t had my period in months why
breakfast
tastes like giving up or how many more
productive ways I could have spent my
time today besides googling the calories
in the glue of a u.s. envelope watching
America’s Next Top Model like the gospel
hunching naked over a bathroom scale
shrine crying into an empty bowl of
cocoa puffs because I only feel pretty
when I’m hungry if you are not
recovering you are dying by the time I
was 16 I had already experienced being
clinically overweight underweight and
obese as a child fat was the first word
people used to describe me which didn’t
offend me until I found out it was
supposed to when I lost weight my dad
was so proud he started carrying my
before and after photo in his wallet so
relieved he could stop worrying about me
getting diabetes he saw a program on the
news about the epidemic with obesity
says he is just so glad to finally see
me taking care of myself if you develop
an eating disorder when you are already
thin to begin with you go to the
hospital if you develop an eating
disorder when you are not thin to begin
with you are a success story so when I
evaporated of course everyone
congratulated me on getting healthy
girls at school who never spoke to me
before stop me in the hallway to ask how
I did it I say I am sick they say no
you’re an inspiration how could I not
fall in love with my illness with
becoming the kind of silhouette people
are supposed to fall in love with why
what’d I ever want to stop being hungry
when anorexia was the most interesting
thing about me so how lucky is now to be
boring the way not going to the hospital
is boring the way looking at an apple
and seeing only an apple not sixty or
half an hour of sit-ups is boring my
story may not be as exciting as it used
to but at least there is nothing left to
count the calculator in my head finally
stopped I used to love the feeling of
drinking water on an empty stomach
waiting for the coolness to slip all the
way down and land in the well not
obsessed with being empty but afraid of
being full I used to take pride in being
able to feel cold in a warm room now I
am proud I have stopped seeking revenge
on this body this was the year of eating
when I was hungry without punishing
myself and I know it sounds ridiculous
but that is hard when I was little
someone asked me what I wanted to be
when I grew up and I said small thank
I have one more poem thank you guys so
much for being such a wonderful audience
perhaps this body belongs to the first
time I was raped and I think about how
up it is to begin a sentence with
the first time I was raped and how when
I talked to other women about this it
almost seems like it’s not even if
you’ve been assaulted
but when see women have so much in
common such as loving Zumba being
interrupted experiencing violence and
when another male friend turns out to be
a rapist the same male friend who wore
feminism across his chest like a pageant
sash I cannot help but remember meeting
him at a sexual violence prevention
rally in the disappointing irony and
when another male friend who identifies
as a feminist gives himself permission
to make a rape joke and has the nerve to
call it rock lamb Ettore never mind that
the joke just validated the actions of
the silent predator sitting next to him
never mind that the joke just made a
survivor across from him relive what was
likely the worst thing to ever happen to
them and you men who posed this
activists scratch your head wonder why
women are so terrified to report will
you shrug your shoulders and make our
trauma into your victory lap the reason
you fist bumped your friends over craft
beers at the bar how could I expect this
body to be perfect for anything but the
punchline and if I do not laugh I am no
longer the cool girl but the one who
cannot take a joke I have run out of
compassion for wolves I have run out of
compassion for anyone who isn’t outraged
I ran in this stubborn body followed I
am the opposite of forgiveness I am all
raged and shrieked and flame outside of
the women’s freshman dormitory at Yale
fraternity pledges chanted no means yes
yes means anal I dead women and
fill them with my semen a woman is found
unconscious behind a dumpster pine
needle
and her hair naked wounded violated by a
star Stanford athlete meanwhile the
press is more concerned with how this
experience has taken away her assailants
appetite this is not to say that all men
are hungry this is not even to say that
all men are hunting but haven’t we all
found the bones of a woman stuck like
leftovers between a full man’s teeth
there is a fraternity in Minnesota that
paints the stone lions outside their
front door the color of the panties of
the last girl they successfully
assaulted you call this rape culture I
call it this morning I was cat
called four times on the way here and if
my trauma were made into an art museum
the most popular exhibit which showcased
portraits of every man who has ever
assaulted me snarling and the smell of
his sweat on my pillowcase follows me to
sociology and the whole class can tell
that most days I am more victim than I
am survivor and in this room I try to
write a poem about anything other than
my sexual assault but all that comes out
is my throat in his hands hours before
one of my best friends raped me on our
college campus we discussed the prospect
of astral projection he couldn’t
understand why I wanted to experience it
so badly why would anyone want to leave
their body he laughed and in this moment
we had nothing in the world in common
thank you [Applause]