No one wants a free woman.
They want us to be small and contained,
unopinonated and ashamed
of all our own ideas.
When I say, “Stop that. It hurts me.”
They’d rather recall how strong
I was before and parade
my wounds around like a trophy.
I just want to be a free woman,
full of melodies and melanin.
Let me be all that I am
or walk away if you can’t.
Is there a such thing as a free
woman? My womb and
my mind are empty
according to every man.
“Can I be a freed woman?”
is not a question I ever thought
I’d need to ask.
I can’t lie. When I wrote this last night, I wasn’t thinking of it being “in honor of International Women’s Day.” But God planted this poem in my heart last night in relation to some conversations and experiences that I’ve been having with various men in my life over the past week or so. So I see His timing as perfect and pray that as women we continue to grow and walk in our God-given purpose-especially in the face of men who do not recognize our talents, gifts, or authority. So let me know what you think and hit me with some ideas for a title.
–peace + love, Tyra