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Why Am I So Angry?

March 30, 2013

Why am I so angry?

Why do I rant, and rave, and go on and on and on?

Why do I constantly, repeatedly, state and restate my opinion,

On everything I see?

Why am I so angry?

When women are oppressed and suppressed,

When their vaginas are ripped and stitched and sewed shut

And reshaped and bleached and plucked and made new

To satisfy a beauty myth, a virgin myth, a control myth

That can never be satisfied, can only control and cause pain.

When girls fear ‘fat’ and seek to destroy their bodies

Before they have had a chance to develop

And hospitals are filled with the pre-adolescent skeletons

Of those who cannot believe they will be loved or succeed

Unless they are starved into spaces no human adult should fit.

Men are told they are unable to control themselves and so rape

Is a thing that must be stopped by controlling the potential

Victim.

What we wear, what we say, who we are with, what we drink, what we want

Is all wrong, is the reason we are the victim and we might be a survivor.

Damned if we do, damned if we don’t, damned if we try,

Damned.

Men are belittled by the privilege they are afforded, controlled

By the power they are so desperate to retain, they turn on each other and

Define, destroy, delineate, deny by race, by disability, by wealth, by arbitrary factors.

Factors which have no meaning other than to control and suppress.

The disempowered and disenfranchised are demonised,

Their rights removed and hope trodden down, no chance

To grow, to develop, to become, their potential unrealised.

Paying the price of the deliberate choices the powerful

Made and make and will continue to choose.

Suicide.

The only option.

Death.

An inevitable result.

As the powerful swill champagne and luxuriate, the poor,

The discriminated against, swill their swill and die.

Division and derision the tools of the media, turn like against like.

It could be you, but it couldn’t, not really, because you are not them,

Discrimination the fault of the oppressed, the oppressor

Maintaining their position and laughing.

Lies upon lies, policy upon policy, hate upon hate, fear upon fear.

The child of now the voice of the future, but what future to have?

Entitlement taught and success measured in money, in fame,

In end results without means to attain the goal.

Education, creation, valued only in irrational lessons which no-one can learn.

Should learn.  Want to learn.

Demonised from the moment they are able to speak, punished,

Feared, belittled, locked away, given no chance, no hope,

No tools to work towards a future.

No future.

The priorities are screwed, the people are screwed, the country is screwed.

Screwed by politicians, supported by media, enabled by people,

Who swallow the lies and refuse to see.

The truth.

Not my truth, not the whole truth, not the real truth,

But the truth of reality.  I see only part.

But I see enough.

I see intersection. I see inequality. I see how fear feeds into future.

I see how the web is spun and re-spun and how we are all caught.

I see the fly alert to others caught, hoping it will not be them to be eaten.

Betraying.

Colluding in oppression, vain hope that this time the spider will pass over.

But the spider will eat, though your time may not be now.

It will come.

Aspiration nation, aspire to what?

Aspire to not expire.

Expiration nation.

Expiration of hope, dreams, family, community, life.

And you ask me, why am I so angry?

So I ask you.

Why aren’t you?

© Tina Price-Johnson 30.3.13

I am angry, and I get tired of being angry, but I hold onto it.  It is useful in maintaining impetus to keep agitating, to keeping hope (however hopeless) alive.   I keep it levelled, to a point I can cope with and which is useful to me.  That takes practice, believe me!   Anger is not all I am, but it is a part of me.

This poem is specifically designed to be read out and I hope one day to have the courage to do so.

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From → Poetry

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