The womxn in my family don’t understand why I spell womxn with an ‘x’.
It’s because I watched these womxn honor men in spaces far too
sacred to be tainted by misogyny.

Passed down traditions of letting vile creatures break us down until
we are nothing but atoms fleeing persecution.

Until all we see are fragments of the people
we used to be dancing with demons
in the corner of every room, they inhabit.

So I Brand “no” onto my flesh,
unbound me from the lies
they’ve forced down
our throats.

Vomit centuries of oppression,
so the next generation doesn’t
have to endure centuries of pain to taste freedom.

This tradition ends with me.


Photo by Caique Silva on Unsplash