by Kimberly Flanagan
Your smile and your smirk are the same to me.
I can’t see the difference between your sharp navy suit and your blue working overalls.
Your soft touch is just as violent as your fist to my jaw.
Every day I wake up and I ask myself #AmInext?
Black, White, Coloured;
Your sense of entitlement and abuse know no race, creed or colour.
The weight of death tip the scale when it comes to the worth of my life.
I’m no longer sad.
I am pissed!
I’ve had enough!
We have had enough.
I’m tired of being afraid of making eye contact with men, thinking that if I don’t look at them, they won’t see me.
I’m tired of being afraid while standing in a public place,
Not knowing who is about to haunt me, stalk me or hurt me.
I’m tired of sitting on the bus or waiting for a taxi and wondering; did this man just come back from raping a woman?
Did this man just murder my sister?
Am I next?
Post office clerk.
I no longer know the difference.
I’m tired of being distrustful of all men because of the faults of a few.
I’m tired of feeling like it’s my fault.
It’s not chivalry that’s dead.
I am dead.