gentle men don’t exist

The following is a somewhat poetic stream of thought resulting from a conversation I had with a man regarding his former childhood feelings of wanting and deserving to assault women for his own sexual gratification. He expressed that his lack of female attention made him want to kill. It made me wonder, how many of our young men walk around thinking they deserve to rape?

Why do we search for safety from the people that harm us the most?

Oh Mother, The Leader of Men is creeping into my room at night

Exploring parts of me I haven’t had the chance to meet

I recoil into a place that no one sees…

As a woman I’ve had to learn the value of self-respect. A husband, a son, a brother, will always sacrifice a woman for the sake of pillage and plunder.

It’s not my fault. I swear I didn’t know that my adolescent disinterest in your dick would result in the murder of other women. I swear I would’ve let you abuse my body, take my innocence, take all that belongs to me if it meant keeping sexual sanity. I didn’t know that adoration could be fueled by hatred so deep. I didn’t know that in your mind I belonged to you, and that meant that you could rape me.

I read an article today titled “how to be a good wife” it detailed that in Englands Victorian Era women had “the privilege of recognizing a gentlemen”. This was to mean that men were not to engage with a woman unless approached by her first. This was a great stride toward allowing women to have rights. What the women weren’t told however was that “gentle” men did not exist. And that if you failed to engage with the men, you were as good as dead. We’re all whores we all belong to an alleyway somewhere where our headstones have already been carved into the scum on the side of a dumpster can.