I. Shame
I want to teach myself to not feel sick with guilt
when I tell you to shut the fuck up, and
I wish I could take back the quiet “thank you”
I politely whisper when you won’t leave me alone
and I don’t know what else to say.
II. Anger
“Smileformeyoungladylookingsobeautiful, canyougiveasmileforme?”
it’s a command given in two breaths.
May it subtract two of your last inhalations
for every time you’ve said it to me, every time you’ve seen me.
III. Violence
If you think my ass is yours to grab,
then I think your eye sockets are a good place
for me to jab my middle fingers, and twist.
I don’t want you to see—even in your mind’s eye—
the things you say you’d do to me if you could take me home.
IV. Shame
I’m told I “should be flattered”
As if I’m incorrect to feel
uncomfortable, unsafe, and degraded.
As if I lack emotional agency, and it’s somehow up to others
to decide how to respond to my body
with no regard for my brain.
Erica Motz is a third-year student at UW-Madison. You can talk with her about street harassment, street respect, gender performativity, music, or making weird art at this address: ericarosemotz AT gmail.com.
