The Warrior Song.

To every woman (biological/identifies as)  – I dedicate this poem to you. Keeping being loud, assertive and 100% amazing. Remember – you’re a fierce queen, born to rule your little world. Don’t let anyone take your crown away. Ever.

Happy Women’s Day, sisters!

The Warrior Song.

“Your body is impure. Don’t come into my temples.”

Your words don’t hurt me, not anymore.

I’m bigger than your barbs, I’m louder than your

fears. I stride ahead, anklets jangling. Who needs your

temples? I’m the Goddess of my land.


“Relax! Why are you such a feminazi? On your period?”

Our kind is put in dark boxes, lids shut tight. Can’t

breathe or scream, we’re bodies for pleasure.

Our victories snatched away, our success tainted. Don’t

insult our rage. We’re not afraid of getting bloody.


“Another girl child? You’re so unlucky!”

A daughter is born; loud perfection.She deserves

the sun, the stars and everything in between.Who

else will birth you, love you, protect you?

If not that daughter born so many years ago.


“Remember, you’re a mother. Act like one.”

I don’t live for my children, I’m complete in

myself. I rise, I fall, I’m flawed in a hundred ways. The

children watch and learn, they see I’m superhuman.

And they understand their mother is human first.


“Girls belong in the kitchen.”

In kitchens and offices, meetings and workplaces.

We wear our crowns in labs and clinics.

Suturing a wound, writing new code. Don’t clip

these wings, we were born to fly!


“You should smile more. Why the bitch face?”

I’m angry, thoughtful. I’m busy, I’m hurt. My body

thrums with a million things I want to do. You weigh me

and find me lacking. Now I’m a bitch? Oh, honey, I

won’t smile to please your broken values.


“Boys will be boys. They can’t control their urges.”

I met a man once. He wanted my body. I said

NO! Silly me, as if I had a choice. He tore and

he hurt, so I carved crimson on his raggedy

neck. I always want to have a choice.


“Hey there! How can I help?”

Wholesome masculinity, you fight alongside.

Our brothers in arms, yell and rebel!

We don’t need to be worshipped, just treated

the same. As equals, perfect the way we were made.

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