poetry

Make a Woman Come for Once. {poetry}

 

In light of the recent political situation in the USA with Brett Kavanaugh and Trump, I sit in Queens, NY staring at my four-month-old niece and saddened by the world we are creating for her.

I will fight, I will stand up, and I will speak for her future.

In the age of speaking up, I have turned up the internal sound system. No more compromises around sexual abuse. No more compassion around men’s voices on women’s issues, and no more silence around the sexualization for my love of other women and of women in general.

Since I came out as a woman who loved women, I found myself in an interesting dance with the Masculine. Why do I feel like I still hold back a public kiss to women I love in fear of being cat-called or sexualized? If I was a man holding her hand, would other men stare they way they do?

I do not attempt to assume no responsibility. I have sexualized women in the past. At a younger age, while finding my feet in my sexuality, I thought I had to be like a man in order to be with women. I thought I had to walk and talk like the boys.

At the age of 30, I write this — my truth around my sexuality and the truth around my ongoing respect and love for the women of the world.

***

He sits on the lounge, watching TV.

“So why only women?” he says,

His eyes fixed on the screen in front of him.

I pause, practically have the next response rehearsed, embedded in my mind due to all the times in which guys ask,

Why I sleep with women.

Here is the thing, I do not hate men, I love them.

I just wish that as a collective they could treat women the way they treat their mum.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think all men are scum, it’s just when they find out I sleep with women,

Some talk to me as if I am one of them.

Not noticing the full female form I am, and that I don’t have the mind of a man.

And no, I don’t want to have a threesome with you. You cannot watch, and maybe you are correct that I haven’t found the right guy.

But you certainly are not him.

I don’t say I am gay, I am open to loving and connecting to humans, it’s just I am yet to meet a man whose beauty captivates the room the way hers does.

Her strength, her beauty, her charm, her wisdom.

Her unwavering resilience.

I see her brilliance.

I want to lay her softly.

I want to draw her body.

Explore her brain.

I long to sustain my lovemaking with her, because in this moment, this is why life is worth living.

I adore a woman.

I love how she pours out her emotions and the way she moves her hips on the dance floor,

I love how she roars down the house when she is mad, and how she is torn open to give life to the generation.

Her strength excites, her soft skin delights, she is soft and strong and all in one.

Woman.

Touch her with tenderness, care for her creativeness.

I will not abuse her beauty through sexualizing of her body.

Shame on the society that has demoralized our maidens, mothers and elders.

The society that shrieks at breastfeeding,

Turns away and makes the woman feel as though she is to blame.

The first medicine I ever received was the milk I retrieved from my mother’s nipples.

They do not have to be sexual.

We create that concept around the female form.

I want to honor women, hold them close, and make each one of them know that she is,

And will continue to be, the source of life here on earth.

I fight for her, and her right to not engage in missionary sex, with no foreplay.

Come on.

Make a woman come for once.

Or stay for her second, third and forth.

***

ellanoahbancroftAustralia-based writer Ella Noah Bancroft is a word-weaver, traveler, lover, poet, mentor, director and daydreamer. She has a passionate voice for women’s empowerment, environmental issues, indigenous affairs, spiritual ideals and gay rights. Her work reflects her own path of discovery, and she hopes to empower people to live their truth and be authentic to their souls. You could contact Ella via her website.

***

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