“We took it so you can take it too”
The placative platitudes keep rolling in
Persistent nudging to accept fate
Because it validates their own surrender.
Misery loves company, hence seldom the thought:
“I didnt make it. But maybe she can”
Instead they preach what they’ve learned to accept
That womens lives aren’t worth their salt.
Despite the ceaseless refrain of:
“Who do you think you are?”
She wrent herself against the grain.
The bushes of scorn scraped at her skin
The judement jostled her as she ran past
Clouds of relief, tears and fear in her wake
But fleeing was imperative
This was no condition for a human being.
The fool preaches sermons on wifely servitude
Wailing about the loss of his human footstool
“I treated her badly but where is forgiveness?”
“If only she could disregard my abuse and treat me like a man!”
Sympathetic-eared peers slither close,
Glassy-eyed and salivating, in anticipation of their own turn
After all, God did say they were the head, and she the neck
After all, their weight was her birthright to carry
Meanwhile, the ‘pick-mes’ keen to win ‘best bondservant’
Sew aso-ebi with the red flags; proving peonage
to a dictator that is at best, benevolent
And at worst, the very fibre of the sunken place.
Indulging in an inherited ‘lose-lose’ game
Passed down because “thats just what you do”
Where the prize is to be an elevated domestic
And a loss of veto over your own life.
“Women do not fight to finish” they said.
An excuse for their willfull choice to look the other way.
‘They’ being the lawyers, the system, the friends and family
Their words revealing deep-seated defeat.
Broken people propping up brokenness to break you
Calling for unarmed negotiation with terrorists, professing concilliation instead of protection.
Post mortem they will say “it was Gods will”
As though ‘fair’ could exist between slave master and slave.
So run away girl! Run! Run deep into yourself.
You can and you must get to self-actualization
Radical self love is the only hill worth dying on
Not the mountain of self-erasure they like to call ‘virtuous’.
Grab your life by the collar and PULL!
Eyes ablaze, dare to fight for your own life! Emancipation is at your door.
Your disruption paves the way for your sisters and daughters
That someday, they too will dance instead.
By Kachi
Nwaami 
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