For men who are also wolves we blame you for our pain we blame you for our sorrow
You see the world as a commodity
Your thirst for domination kills and terrorizes
I understand you see my pain my existence my body as an object of your gleeful debates
To those men who colonize and sexualize my black body while you neglect your white wife
To those men who lay with my one of my sisters to only later violently seize the last breath from her body when your manhood is questioned
Men. Why do you inflict so much pain upon me? Why do you want to end my life? Starve me of love of desire? Why me?
A woman so undesirable so unloved so lonely I beg you to love me to see me.
You are the most selfish beings I know your desires above all else, the quest and hunger for your pleasure trumps anyone else’s pain, you bring great fear a looming evil but what else is there to expect you are men; you are wolves.
You have taken away my ability to feel
You reinforce and validate every fear I have
You have paralyzed my ability to produce to be creative
We are left disposable, I the most disposable of all women
I turn down the lights to hide my body and insecurities when I lay with you when I kiss you, when I am at my most vulnerable, the dark is your territory but it grants be the security I need to hide myself from you
I hate myself for wanting to please you
I am ashamed of my daily grooming rituals which I do to purposely appease and appeal to you
I loathe that your opinion your desire your input matters
I glow when you call me beautiful I cringe when you call me beautiful because I know beauty is a double edged sword filled with pain and an ever evolving finish line.
For the men who are also wolves I know my life is in your hands
To the violent men who reference me as a man
To the men who find me exclusively worthy of “friendship”
To the perverted men who follow me around the subway station in lust and sexual desire
To the younger but married Brazilian boy whose experiences are far removed from my own
To the blonde haired blue eyed Italian god who was so dreamy in every way imaginable his existence seemed like a distant fleeting fantasy; and that fleeting fantasy became a reality when he understood who I was or rather who he thought I was
To the white trans man who doesn’t understand my black girl attitude or politic
To the gay boys who say they know oppression but allow their eyes to glaze over in infatuation and praise of the plastic doll faced instagram girls of the world to later appropriate those curses of femininity at your leisure
To the man who years ago forcefully spread my legs and took my youth and inexperience as consent even though the words “no, not now” left my lips, only to later discard me as you discarded my humanity
To the smooth skinned deep chocolate black boy with the full lips, twisted hair and the experiences of a young black man in America which aged you into maturity; the man who mesmerizes me with intellectual conversations, who calls to check in on me, who recites my name so smoothly and understands the value of a black woman, why can’t you see me? Why can’t you see my desire for you?
And “H” I haven’t forgotten you, how could I? I know it’s easier to pretend I don’t exist, but I do wonder if you still think about me………….not in a way that’s disrespectful to the woman you love and whom loves you, but does the thought of the way things turned for you and I ever fill you with regret? Do you ever long to hear my voice again? Or am I a distant memory that you pray fades with each passing day. I am I as disposable to you as I am to the rest of the world?
To the young New York Latin boy whose face is painted with my lipstick and makeup as I sit straddling you staring at your face you ask me “what are you thinking? What’s going on in your mind?” I answer “just thinking…..” all the while feeling comfort, contentment, lust, desire and intrigue followed by an overwhelming fear and terror because somewhere inside of him is a wolf
For men who are also wolves………… to be a man is to be a wolf.