By Niamh Griffiths

your cat call, wolf whistle
sign of appreciation
of my dungarees
my red-striped tee
that clearly said

‘i wish to be objectified’
today
and every day
that i second-guess my outfit
because it would be my fault
if i was asking for it
with a skirt just a little too short
above the knee
thighs seen
by the world
and his wife
would disapprove
because she has lived
with his misogynistic views
that now fall upon deaf ears

numb from the daily
pats on the bottom
grabbing anatomy
behind closed doors
or even out in the open
because his property
is his castle
yet he carves cracks into her walls
paints her how he pleases
shows her off when it suits
because she was a looker back in the day
but now she is showing her age
she’s too tired to argue
too frail to have a voice
now when he treats her
like a piece of meat
she smiles and agrees
and another queen
is confined to the kitchen

so, at fourteen when i was groped
i learned to be silent
because i would be silenced
either way
when compliments are hurled
like sewage
from a van
by an unseen man
who is everywhere
is everyone
who forces
young women
to accept
that this is as good as it gets.
that there is no white picket fence
while endless judgement
is the norm
and ‘nice tits’
is the highest form of flattery
especially when yelled
from a moving car

well screw your misogyny
i’m sorry i don’t sound like a lady
and that offends you, sweetheart
i’ll take a compliment
when it is not about my body
which i have felt you
undress
with your snake eyes
ten times over
the course of this conversation
and i’ll ask you this question
that you will never answer
imagine if the roles were reversed
and i was the cancer
who called out to you
while you were
defenceless
and alone
modestly dressed
but you and i both know
that won’t hold up in court

so, i will not kick up a fuss
and draw attention to myself
any more than you already have
instead i will bide my time
write down what i have seen
in words that are mine
that not even you
can make me change
not even you
will make me feel ashamed
for wearing shorts
on a summer’s day
and a t-shirt in spring

because i could wear anything
and it would never
be your place to say
a word
to make a single sound
in regard to how i dress my body
i am not asking for much
in all honesty
just a few more steps
towards equality
so, next time i am in my denim,
roll your window up
hold your breath as you pass me
and keep your damn mouth shut