Painted Thin Tearing Down My Clubhouse
The boys all know that they have nothing to fear: Patriarchal values washed down with a beer. I'm standing in the doorway confused and ashamed wondering why I ever came here. I've been told I look at isolated incidents and frown, but I just see isolated people who can't meet eye to eye without their pupils dilated or one of them holding the other one down. I wish that I could turn and walk away, but it's not just here, I see these people everyday. I need to make amends and I need to know how deep these sexist attitudes have been ingrained in me. She says the phrase 'he or she' makes her mad, I can see what she means. Growing up an afterthought can't be good for self esteem. I said "you challenged me and I'm glad the prison of language has bars that we can see." She says "Your averted eyes tell me more than all the things you said before." I'm up against nineteen years of script and stifled tears and I can't make a difference today, but I can feel a river of hope and it's running down my face.
