We are fragile, but this is not a tragedy
Described as the softer gender
We are the ones with the gentle touch
Who have done the most hitting
Our lips are a specific red
Not a crimson or cherry
Centimeters away from the microphone
Staring at our mouths- not hearing words
The doors of corporate America only remain open so wide
Let’s just hope that is enough
For our lace covered legs to walk right through
So we can stomp our heels onto the soil plowed by the other kind
A monument to commemorate the differences between the stick figures on each public bathroom door
Cold stone, constructed with the proper curves and clashing corners
Standing only so near the statue it sits next to
A monument to commemorate the differences between just us
I am a she, but I am not like her
Her sharp stilettos may be red like my lips,
But my Chuck Taylor’s aren’t as black as her lace
I am not one of those angry feminists
I am a she, but I am not like her
We are whole, though
Softer, but not afraid to strike
A scrape from her manicured nails
Or a dirty punch from my uneven knuckles
We are not afraid
