why am i twenty four years old and i just realized i was pretty?
why do i even have to be pretty?
why at twenty four did i just realize that i’m smart enough?
why at twenty four did i just realize that being a size eight and one hundred and forty eight pounds is good enough?
why am i twenty four years old and just realizing that it’s okay that i get mad?
why did it take me twenty four years to realize that i am sexy, and that i want it? yup, it.
why at twenty four did i just figure out that there’s more to life then having a ring on my finger?
that maybe i could be happy.
that maybe i
why am I twenty four years old and just realizing the power of femininity?
that being a woman is beautiful
that my emotion is beautiful—it is not my weakness
why do i have to convince myself of these things every. day?
why am i twenty four years old and just finding my voice?
why am i twenty four years old and just realizing that if i want to eat four desserts in one day, that does not make me a pig...it just means i know what i want?
why am i twenty four years old and just realizing that I am complicated [and there is power in that]?
and i will
that is twenty four years too long.
why was admitting that i am a feminist the best and worst day of my life?
maybe because admitting that means that i am strong [or at least trying to be].
why does that scare you so much?
why can i not tell you that i like you [or that i don’t]?
why do i cover up who i am just to please you?
why do i give things up for you?
why can i not say what i mean to say?
why do i play along?
why have i been taught to keep quiet?
because i have a lot to say.
why do i live in a world where you can tell me things like “you can’t be pretty and smart at the same time”
where you think you get to comment on what i look like [and you get to approve]
where you get to tell me that i’m too much
where my strength scares you
where i’m not taken seriously
that i’m too emotional
that you are the one who gets to validate me
that i'm a nag
that i have to walk down the street and be afraid of you
that i'm not as hot as her [and then why do i hate her?]
that you can pay me less
that you think you can have my last name
that you think my body is for your entertainment
that you “have to” throw me the ball just because you think i’m not as good at sports as you
that you think what i have to say isn’t as good as what you have to say
that you can be chubby and rich...and that i just have to keep looking good
that being feminine isn’t good enough for you—you have to be a “man”
without realizing that you are not whole without the feminine
you’re saying that i’m not as good as you are
and that makes me want to run the other way
why do i live in a world where i think i am not
that i am
why am i so scared of Me?
Because I am the Good Girl.
I don’t step out of line.
I do not do bad things with boys.
I do not lose control.
I don’t know more then I should.
I ask questions when I know the answers.
I say mean things to try to fit in.
I lose myself for the sake of everyone else.
this is who i was. this is who i am.
but this is not just about me. this is about all of us.
I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar.