Siren Song Like a War Cry


personal vendetta

Someone very intelligent once said “Write what you know.” The origional author that inspired countless educational posters plastered upon the dreary walls of high schools across the country has been lost in the shuffle of history, but it does not diminish the worthiness of the advice.

I know many things. Something I know is oppression. I know it in the marrow of my bones, its lessons were taught to me from the cradle. I know rape culture, I know to hold my keys between my fingers when I walk alone at night, I know to follow streetlamps and ignore shortcuts, I know to never leave my drink unattended. I know silence. I know violence. I know rape. I know beauty standards and eating disorders. I know self-injury and self-hate. I know self-imposed sexism and the cycle of violence. I know the ten ways to recognize an abuser, I know what the eyes of a rapist look like and I know that they look like everyone elses. I have red flags and warning bells ingrained in me so deep I can’t remember a time that I didn’t. I know many, many things.

This is for every girl who ever wanted to know how to throw a football. This is for every boy who longed to wear a skirt. This is for every survivor, every victim. This is for the arsonists, the kids who carry the black flags, the political prisoners. This is for the housewives, the working mothers, the pink coller ghettos populated by wage-slaves. This is for queers bashing back. This is for anyone who’s ever questioned, and for anyone who’s ever answered.

This is for you.

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1 Comment so far
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I like the way you write this. I can hear the passion in your writing.

Comment by lettrist




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