A  Poem Of Both Importance and Pretentiousness:


My dreams are technicolored visions of a brighter, better world
Where no girl is judged because her hair is too long or too short,
Because she fucks too much or too little,
Because she eats until she is spilling out of her clothes or goes without until she is ‘gaunt’.
My dreams are filled with glossy magazine covers
Featuring beautiful women of all ages and sizes
And they are never called ‘different’.
I dream of a world where women aren’t told not to fight amongst themselves
But are allowed to stand up for what they believe in even if to say it is to ‘bitchfight’.
In my dreams it is not unusual to see ‘fat’ girls in ‘revealing’ clothes
Because they feel comfortable in them.
Girls have the confidence to wear what they want
And don’t worry about hiding their ‘flab’.
In my dreams bigger girls eat salads without being asked ‘who are you kidding’
And eat greasy foods without being told ‘isn’t that how you got to this point?’ ‘save some for the rest of us’ or ‘stop eating so much’.
No one is shamed for their hunger or lack of it.
Girls of all shapes and sizes colours are treated with equal love,
but aren’t fetishised by drooling white men at home
with their hands shoved down their dirty pants.
In my dreams women of colour get the jobs they deserve
And no one is selected just because they fill the ‘minority quota’
Or ignored because a straight white man has almost the same qualifications.
No one touches their weaves without permission
But doesn’t bother asking if they can touch their natural hair.
Personal space is a concept that everyone understands
And is not violated.

My dreams are bittersweet
Because I know people say there is no longer cause for feminism.
But even in my dreams I can tell we are not done fighting yet.



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