Confession: I am sick of thinking about sexual violence, both publicly and personally. I am tired of coming to a keyboard and bleeding for naught. I am defeated by the reality that I am forced to exist in.
I have spoken and written, both poetry and prose, about the matter for what feels like eons. I have had my lamentations met with scorn and threats of the violence I speak against. My entire being has been drenched with the subject, yet the toil seems to have only taken a toll on my spirit.
Perhaps someday we can banish the phrase ‘rape culture’ to the deepest bowels of hell; perhaps the perfidy with which so called allies manipulate and gaslight us can be excoriated along with it; perhaps the idea of of feminist allies will be removed from our vernacular, because we’ll all simply be feminists.
I do not dare to dream of a utopia for women where patriarchy and misogyny are antiquated – my imagination isn’t that vivid. I do envision a world at least marginally better than this one. It has to exist.