Hands Off I’m Not Asking

Apocalypse Poetry — A New Trail Of Tears Installment

If I hide away

What does that say

I am myself

Always have been

Should I change

To meet demands

Of men

Who find my melanin

Gender, knowledge

Intimidating

Daunting

Irritating

A sin

Should I diminish me

To be what abusers demand

Or shall I set myself free

I Am Me

I shall be as I choose

No longer what has been chosen

I choose

Where once I needed

I refuse to accept

Any such arrangement

Regardless of who brokered it

I belong to me

In whole

Unique

Authentically

Keep your hands off my uterus

My skin

My ovaries

Keep your hands off me

My eggs

My babies

My kids

My progeny

My intellectual properties

Me

Keep your hands off my identity

My psyche

My community

My gender

My property

Anyone who can produce

With their very own body

WE

Don’t choose to be dominated

Or manipulated

Or abused

Or controlled

Or pigeonholed (all puns intended)

What WE intend

Is equality and freedom

We shall be as we choose

Not who or what

Extremists dictate

I myself choose

To wash my hands of you

All who trample on me

Daily

Nightly

Morning after morning

The story changing

Depending on who tells it

Or what the agenda is

No more

No more

No more

No

Hands off my mind, body, and soul

Hands off my destiny

Hands off my future

Hands off my progeny

Hands off my uterus

Hands off my eggs, vagina, tubes

My everything

Hands off me

I’m not your little girl to be molded

I Am Me

Free

I’m not asking

Nat Geo Explorers Library of Congress TIME The White House Congressional Black Caucus Progressive Caucus UN Human Rights UN Women Human Rights Watch Amnesty International USA