Social Justice Week Creative Works

This week Audrey’s Corner celebrates Social Justice Week with creative works from Julianna Rezza, including “an elegy to the women,” and “the girlboss.”

the girlboss

i do not step into the male skin like i’d step

into a onesie, zip it up to my neck and fasten

the head piece, wrapping it around my body like

a new reality, hoping that if i look like one,

talk and walk and bark like one

people will treat me like one.

hoping that if i press my lips into a thin line and

size up a girl that smiles i will get respect for

laughing at the guessed time it would take to beat it

into submission.

hoping that if i exude the ability to pick a girl’s

existence to shreds i will feel good when the rips

don’t scab and her soul blisters and bleeds.

hoping that if i hold myself just so

they will know they must earn my respect-

that they must open their mouths or their

legs—whatever gives better compliments – in

order to have a modicum of approval, of reprieve

from the constant feeling of tripping, being

curbstomped up a down escalator

in an attempt to not feel like

gum stuck to the bottom of the societal shoe.

no. i cannot justify donning that skin

no matter how good it might feel.

i will not be a part of the problem.

an elegy to the women

For the little girl

with fuzzy pajama shorts

and neon painted finger nails.

For the teenager at the bar

words a happy jumble

a giant smile upon her face

with a fruity drink and

music thumping in her chest.

For the ponytail

grinning as she leaves the gym

keys jingling as she removes

one earbud and opens the door to her car.

For the woman post-divorce

walking back from

trivia night with singles Halley-and-Rachel-

who-drink-only-white-wine

at the wrong time.

For the runners in the state parks

or the bathroom stalls

or caught in the darkness of the ice machine

at a motel outside.

For the frantic breaths of escape

quiet breathes through the tape

last breaths through tears.

For shallow graves

and shitty obituaries

and the sickening smell of

the roses

you wished to receive

for the first time

or just

one

more

time.

it wasn’t a lot to ask.

i hope you know that

i’m sorry.

i’m

sorry.

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