Letter to my Latest Street Abuser

International Women’s Day seems like a good time to record and share this poem. I’ve been dismayed by all the people putting comments on news articles attempting to downplay the oppression of women in my home country (example).

I wrote this last year after a particularly bad incident of sexist-homophobic street harassment in London. People tell us to ‘ignore it’ and get on with our day, but I never could. It made me angry. I believe in channeling our anger towards creating things. I believe that beneath the anger we can even make bids for connection with those who harm us.

Letter to My Latest Street Abuser

Dear friend

You seem to forget

You’re the same as me

Survivors of reality

Hearts beating rapidly

Lost in the sea

Of our venom

As you spit yours at me

Did you actually

Just unzip your jeans?

Do you understand

What it means

When you dribble out

Your obscenities?

Your humanity

On its knees

Begging you to freeze

The hate

Just for a moment’s relief?

Do you understand the depth of your disgrace?

Exposing the underside of the human race

Claiming ownership of public space

Flapping your fragility in my face?

My tears

Are not spawned by your jeers

Not drawn by the blunt edge of your fears

You are merely a symptom

Of the years

Still to fight

My tears are

Of sorrow

For all the lives taken

And blighted

By a short-sighted world

My anger a flag unfurled

A standard of hope, and

In the march

Toward dignity

I believe we will see

The day when the functions of my body

Do not determine the degree

Of respect accorded me

When love is not a reason for hate

That day will be too late

For too many

My tears

Are for young men committing suicide

After learning that pride

Is conserved when you hide

Your feelings from sight

Loved ones

Silenced in their plight

Or lost to the night

You and I, my friend

Have both soaked up a sunrise

Choked up in surprise

Cloaked up in disguise

So many times

In our parallel lives

Both been red with shame

Bled on the sidelines of our own game:

We both have a name

Both know it’s hard enough

To get through the days

It works both ways

Even in this rage

I see clearly through my pain:

Remember to abstain

From blame

Would we observe such rabid heaving

If you knew to look for meaning

How to pick apart a feeling

Feel the steady breeze

At the helm of reason

How to look inside yourself and see

What you’re believing?

But we’re all in charge of the barbs on our own wire

Choose exactly when and where to build our fire

If you find it hard to contain your aggression:

Then sweetheart, you’re preaching to the choir

Here we stand

On broken pavement

Your feet but inches from mine

Our coats done up tight for protection

But there’s no time

Every moment of disconnection

Is a death

On our dime

So learn quickly

To comprehend and channel your hate

To dismantle instead of fixate

To be angry, and let your anger create

A better world, in which people

Like you and me

Communicate