“I am right, and you are wrong.” that’s
what I was always told.
“You’re a woman and not a man,
You belong to the kitchen to make some jam.”
You may take my temperament as sass, and don’t
you dare grab my ass
This figure belongs to me. you do not own it or claim it
for free. you may smell the metal under my tanned skin, but I
will exude high tides and stream. I may grapple and wrestle,
still, I rise and that’s my hustle
you may silence my voice, but you will still hear it.
you may refuse me a seat at the table,
but I am going to build it. I am gypsy under the tree.
free spirit and liberty.
amidst the battle of gender,
I exhibit unconventional courage and valor.
