We might see things differently,
But the guy on the outside sees my sister, my mother, and my fiance as mere “females”.
A body, a hole to fill, a corpse, a mattress,
A ride, a bang, a screw, a fuck,
A piece of meat everyone wants to tear into with their teeth
When I was in middle school, someone beat me up.
We were playing football, and he beat me up, so I went home crying.
My dad saw me and asked why I was crying, so I told him what had happened.
masculinity, social pressure, parents
You gotta be a strong man.
You can’t be a teacher’s pet because that’d make you a sissy.
You gotta be clever.
And be friends with the right people.
You must have connections, and be in control.
“Where are you?
Tell me where you are now.
Why are you so late?
Tell me now.
I’m not going to hang up.
We’ll continue this conversation when you come home.
Right now.
I want you here in five minutes.
I don’t care how.”
I’m starting to think I shouldn’t have to carry the burden all alone after my father’s death.
My father made me promise,
Not to ask for any help from any of my grandparents or uncles.
masculinity, social pressure, parents
I was walking around in Downtown with my friends
when 12 guys appeared. They were walking towards us.
It was me and two or three other girls on the bus.
Two of them were veiled and one was wearing the niqab.
We were all standing in a corner.
We were surrounded by men.
There was a man sitting with his legs wide open and laughing loudly.
It was as if he was the owner of the bus and could act any way he liked.
Whenever I see someone crying, especially my younger siblings,
I immediately tell them to stop.
I’m their older sibling and I must always appear strong.
They can’t cry because I can’t cry.
I have to hold it in.