June 27, 2019

A Rally Cry for Badass Women (& the Men who Love Them).

Warning: naughty language ahead!


Let me explain it to your husband;

Let me lift that for you.

Do you allow your wife to post pictures like that?

Aren’t you embarrassed by her outbursts, her thoughts, her feelings, her tears?

She gets emotional, as women do.

How many blondes does it take to screw in a light bulb, to be the butt end of a joke?

Our blood is bad, something to be mocked around a table with the good ole boys.

We never meant anything by it—boys will be boys;

Grabbing your ass is a compliment, how dare you misunderstand and make me out as bad.

Close your legs, pregnancy is a woman’s issue.

Open your legs, I deserve it.

Be a woman, take it like a woman, shave it to look like a woman;

Don’t say too much, you might be perceived as hysterical, or worse, opinionated.

He can’t help it, he had an ex who was cruel to him.

Kill the spider, open the jar—

How cute, she can’t do it.

Accept his behavior because the sex is good, and I mean after all he is a good guy;

Misunderstood, that’s all.

Not as bad as the others.

Overweight, underweight, small boobs, weird nipples, big ass…

Never enough.

Difficult, not the marrying type.


No. Wait. Fuck you.


I am not the person for that;

I do not bend to your patriarchal demands.

Really? You had a bad ex, so did I, so did everyone.

No, I don’t need fucking help opening the jar, killing the spider;

I capture and release anyway.

I will open my legs as often as I want.

You have needs, well fuck you.

Yes, I will tell you what I like, how to lick it there—

No, not there, right there…here let me show you.

And I will expect a response, same as you.


That’s what my end game is.

Feelings hurt? Too bad,

I am not the butt end of a joke.

How many blondes does it take?

One. Because we are fucking intelligent.

My blood is life, not something to be mocked.

Look at it, get to know it, stop fearing it—you came from it.

My body is a temple and a fortress

And is perfect in every way;

All of us, same.

For I am woman:

My roar may have started out small

But it is now mighty.

And I will not bend for you.


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