by Kali Nelson
My lipstick, I pick it out carefully every morning.
All the shades of red and pink remind me that
I am the decedent of warriors.
My mother was a warrior
And her mother before her.
They did not use lipstick to armor up.
They used a little pink ribbon.
But my lipstick is my armor.
Without it I feel naked, defenseless.
My feminism is a lot like my lipstick,
I sometimes water it down as to not offend.
From blood red to pastel pink
I know I shouldn’t but I do.
I am most offensive in my head.
Always set to my darkest red.
I do not control my thoughts in my head, but I censor myself when in crowds.
But do not think I do this for you. I do this for me,
Because I do not want to fight today
My feminism is ready to combat all the stereotypes.
Don’t tell me I cannot,
If you do, get ready to watch me do it.
Thank you for telling me I could be whatever I wanted
You’ve raised an ambitious woman.
But did you have to say you think it’d take me five years to graduate?
Because now dad,
I have to do it in four. Continue reading “I am a Supportive Feminist”