I met a man.
He said he was my Grandpa.
I was only 4-years-old but I knew better,
he was only the man married to my grandmother.
He made me popcorn when I visited.
When I napped he put his fat cigar-stained finger inside me.
He whispered to never tell anyone.
I met a man.
He said he was a friend of my parents, they drank all night together in a bar.
It was my birthday. I just turned 13-years-old.
He asked if I would ride along to pick up pizzas for the family.
I did, he said, “Slide over and sit closer to me.”
He put his hand under my skirt and underwear and grabbed my genitals with force.
Told me not to tell. He said he was bigger and stronger than my father.
I met a man.
He asked for directions to my college. I told him I was on my way there.
“I’ll give you a ride.” He seemed friendly enough. Asked me my name.
He struck up a conversation. I answered his questions. “Do you live on campus?”
“No, I have a small studio apartment.” He replied, “Oh, where?”
We arrived at the school, he dropped me off.
A few days later he was on the other side of my door. My friends walked up behind him. He fled.
I met a group of men
in an elevator in Chicago at the Palmer House Hotel.
Shriners in Fez hats got on the elevator and their eyes surveyed me.
I was wearing the fashion of the time, a mini-skirt and platform shoes.
One of them asked me, “Are you a working girl? We’re looking for a little entertainment.”
The three approached closer and one of them wrapped his arm around my waist.
The elevator stopped at my floor. I broke away, running fast (I’ll never wear those shoes again).
[I met a group of women. I became a second-wave feminist, an activist, and came out as a lesbian].
I watched the news, a group of men
sat around a huge conference room table, Republican lawmakers, and cabinet members,
advisors to the President. They were meeting to draft healthcare legislation.
Not one woman was in attendance, yet they began to discuss medical coverage,
pre-existing conditions, abortion, birth control, and the day-after-pill, religious exemptions.
Later, their bills would be defeated.
They decided instead to stack the Supreme Court.
I met a man on television and online,
a candidate for the Supreme Court. His alleged victim of sexual misconduct,
(some would call it attempted rape), bravely testified before Congress in front of the cameras.
She was treated by some as a liar, attempting to ruin a man’s career. Her reputation was ruined.
His supporters, a majority of men, some citing family values and religious beliefs,
saw him as the victim. They approved his nomination and soon he was seen shaking hands
with the POTUS, a man defending his own alleged sexual harassment history.
I saw 25 white men in Alabama
pass the most restrictive abortion ban legislation
and join other states preparing to overturn Roe vs. Wade in the Supreme Court.
A law convicting women seeking abortions and the doctors who provide them.
The laws protecting women’s bodies from incest, rape, and domestic abuse, are often left languishing, rape kits untested, healthcare and birth control, denied.
I can only conclude, women’s bodies must belong to men.
LLL
05-15-2019
“Just Take Them and Leave Me Alone”
By Iranian artist, Raoof Haghighi
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