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You say I can’t take a joke
When your gift of a pearl necklace didn’t make me giggle.
I’m a diamonds woman myself.

I’m sorry I don’t fist bump you when the waitress
has a fat arse.
I’m sorry I don’t high-five you when you
pull a solid nine.
And I’m sorry I don’t call women bitches
when they say you’re not their type.

Belittling our accomplishments to
the size of our breasts and the bend in our back.
Mistaking cries for help as cries for attention –
I was groped, I was grabbed, I was followed.
We get it; you’re attractive. Stop putting on a show.
Then you walk outside. A pretty thing walks by.
A prey to pursue.

Unfortunately, it’s not always a question of if?
But when?
You laugh, but these are not jokes;
They are memories we want erased from our heads.

Your words are triggers aimed at targets.
Forcing real nightmares to replay over and over again.
You’re expecting a laugh –
Why won’t you laugh? It’s a joke. Why are you hurt?
My silence bruises your ego,
But it’ll heal quicker than she will.

What do you have to say when I ask:
Have you ever seen somebody laugh while held at gunpoint?

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Not all men are intentionally out there to harm women. This poem is to show the ignorance men may have when it comes to the dangers of being a woman – an innocent joke can spiral someone into the memory of the last time they were vulnerable under the grasp of a man, yet there is an expectation to laugh and be able to ‘take a joke’ and just ‘loosen up’. ‘Gunpoint’ sheds light on the oppression of victims of sexual abuse in day to day life and the dangers of toxic masculinity. 

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NON-CITY STUDENT POST