Dear men that blame women’s bodies for what they see,
Yo’ egos are diseased and playing tricks on you. Got you trippin-wet, appendage swimming in crustaceans, feeling all excited at the notion of taking me home. Energized! Bangin’ hands on chest, entitled like this birthday suite and locs are for you. The appearance of my body is not ‘code’ for take what you want, loose morals, or trash-can-I take you outside and dispose of you-contrary to phallic belief. My body is telling you loud and clear to back the fuck up! Check me out! And no-don’t touch! Femmes are not property. Our bodies are not some benevolent charity fund that needs saving. Our bodies will not apologize for how they exist to you. We have choices and make them. We owe you nothing. There is room on this planet for us to make a consensual choice to be gang banged for fame and get paid for it. Instead of heavily guilt tripped, intoxicated, and forcibly coaxed into it-Like Girl 27, Patricia Douglas, an MGM studio extra, sedated and raped at 15-told it was for the fame-I’m doing you like this to prepare you for the fame. And we will compromise your egos without consent. As a matter of fact you can help us out-take your egos by the hand and lead them into a crowded street. The rest is bound to be a miracle.
Lil ole me in the mix. Photo by Mike Sutherland ❤