I
Am Me.
In honor of every girl who has survived.
In memory of all the girls who didn’t stand a chance.
           Not
a jizz rag,
           Not
a punching bag,
           Not
for you to brag.
I Am Me.
           Not
an orifice,
           Not
a pair of tits,
           Not
for you to diss.
I Am Me.
           Not
a mouthy bitch,
           Not
a pushy broad,
           Not
for you to hit—no matter how hard. 
I Am Me.
           Not
a helpless maiden
           Nor
Handmaid of Satan.
           Not
for you to shit on.
I Am Me.
           Not
a needy whore,
           Not
a brainy bore,
           Not
yours to ignore.
I Am Me.
           Not
an old man’s charmer (Leviticus 21:13-15),
           Not
a king’s bed-warmer (1 Kings 1:1-4),
           Not
yours to barter (Genesis 19:8, Judges 19:24).
I Am Me.
           Not
a stupid missy,
           Not
an untamed filly,
           Not
for you to diddly.
I Am Me.
           Not
a virgin vessel,
           Not
a distressed damsel,
           Not
for you to gamble.
I Am Me.
           Not
a t-shirt slogan,
           Not
a male that’s broken,
           Not
for you to put down.
I Am Me.
           Not
the shame of boys—“Sissie!”
           Not
the blame for hormones—“Crazy!”
           Not
the aim of your creation envy—“Hysterical!”
I Am Me.
           Not
your closet for being gay
           Nor
your test for going straight.
           Not
your fix for what’s innate.
I Am Me.
           Not
“forbidden fruit,”
           Not
for “cherry-picking,”
           Not
yours “ripe for the taking.”
I Am Me.
           Not
a notch on posts,
           Not
the brunt of jokes,
           Not
a field for your wild oats—Go sow yourself.
I Am Me. 
           Not
to ply with drugs or drinks
           Nor
supply frat boys’ high jinx.
           Not
yours to score for scoring points.
I Am Me.
           Not
a “Lassie,” “Chick,” or “Sow,”
           Nor
a “Pet,” “Hen,” or “Cow.”
           Not
yours to name, anyhow.
I Am Me.
           Not
a passive receptacle
           Nor
the weaker recipient.
           Not
a submissive slot to fill.
I Am Me.
           Not
a spoil of war or conflict,
           Not
a thing to sell or traffic,
           Not
yours to photo graphic.
I Am Me.
           Not
my mother’s sub,
           Not
my sister’s doub,
           Not
for you to slug.
I Am Me.
           Not
my brother’s hate,
           Not
my father’s mate,
           Not
for you to rape.
I Am Me.
           Not
a cure for having AIDS,
           Not
a prize at heaven’s gate,
           Not
yours to genital-mutilate.
I Am Me.
           Not
anyone’s blank slate,
           Not
someone’s book of fate,
           Not
yours to groom and bait.
I Am Me.
           Not
a body in your attic,
           Not
a slave in your basement,
           Not
yours to crucify with your patriarchal religion.
I Am Me.

 
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