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Friday, November 21, 2008

Fabulously Feminist Poetry (don't worry it's not by me)

By Carole Clarke

Brown skinned mother from Jersey City.
Light skinned father from San Juan.
Grew up black, grandmother raised,
and in beauty.
Temper Caribbean.
Purely northeast united states
African wit and cunning.
Tough and genteel.
Hands so delicate and bejewelled.
Lovers always amazed at how
big she could make her fist.

1 comment:

  1. Hi Carole,

    thought provoking poem. I like it very much.

    I'm also in the Chicago area. I have a poem about how some "feminists," rather than use their power to pave the way for equality, use it for retribution, and almost always against some poor students that don't have a clue why. We have one or two like that at my institution. It's sad. I think it's really important that blogs like this make a point of both the good and the damage that empowered women can cause.

    White, Straight Male in a “Feminist’s” World
    John Maszka

    Once again, she ignores me—calling on everyone else, just not me.
    She waits for someone else to speak…Anyone at all; as long as they’re female or gay or a different color than me. Even when she acknowledges me, she tells me to wait and then never allows me to speak.
    I don’t know why I even try.
    I’m invisible and yet still, she targets me with isolation.
    She’s obviously very angry,
    Her passive-aggression gives her away.
    “Did you have your hand up?” She asks the others but never me.
    “Do you have something to add?” Words I’ll never hear. Not here anyway.
    My opinion is not welcome.
    My offense has nothing to do with what I’ve done, and everything to do with what I am.
    I’m a white male—
    And heterosexual too!
    I might as well be a leper!
    Ostracized by the “feminist” who claims to champion the unempowered
    but she uses her position of power to oppress and silence.
    Her thin veil of hypocrisy, yellow like her teeth, barely conceals her cowardice.
    Are you the “son of a Swan?”
    or the abandoned offspring of a harpy?
    The goddess Diana resents your name.
    You preach about ethics, but look what you do.
    You’re not a feminist, you’re a liar—and the worst kind…
    pretending to be a victim as you wipe the blood from your lips.