They Told Me Not To Be Political 

They told me not to be political,
Because the days of struggle and inequality were long past,
Relegated to the dusty, brittle pages of history books,
The roles of heroes already assigned, the bit parts already taken,
The script had gone to print and there was nothing left to say.
Maybe if I was lucky, they would let me bang on a tambourine once or twice
In the wings, when no one else was around.
Just so I could feel like I’ve done something.

They told me not to be political,
Because parties for Women’s Equality were just rich women on a jolly.
That in the end politics would cut me until the red poured out of my veins
And I would run out of spoons trying to shovel the life back into myself.
If I wanted to go to a party, there was really only one place to be.
And when I sent my regrets to their RSVP, I was told there was no other option,
That because I could not feed myself, I was unfit for work 5 times over.
And why didn’t I know my place?

They told me not to be political,
That I should be like Gandhi instead, or MLK, or Christ, they were such nice guys.
You call me ‘unloving’ or ‘aggressive,’ lacerate my soul so it reopens late at night,
And the electric blue phoenix at my back wonders if it is better to be destroyed
Or simply pull the plug and stop the cycle altogether.
Your trauma warps my DNA, your complicity shackles my mobility,
You wonder why I don’t smile and become a cog in the wheel of my own oppression.
I wonder why you ever expected me to be like a man at all.

They told me not to be political,
That I should be thankful instead of wanting more.
More access, more resources, more equality. Haven’t I been given enough?
But I am like a canary in the coal mine singing,
“Your equation does not balance yet! And the inequality
Which I face today will someday be your pain too, if you do not hear me now.”
What will it take for you to realize that it is your name on banners under which I fight?
That fragility is part of the human condition, and you are not exempt?

They told me not to be political,
To ignore the daily assault from your systems, your architecture, your assumptions,
And wait to be given freedom in your good time.
You said that I add complications when I know my rights,
That I will only be known as the woman who sues, angry, bitter, spent out.
And I give you my word, that prospect terrifies me too.
The woman I was created to be is ravaged of joy, like Medea after Jason.
Put your hand on my chest and know my heart is still soft, but I will not lie down with Iphigenia.

You told me not to be political,
But the way my body slams against this world constantly, makes that impossible.