To the girl who takes her top off in the name of feminism

I read this poem at Women Who Rock, (and won).


It was if the universe had brought us together
There, in that tiny bathroom, the walls caked with carvings of
Initials and greek letters
The floor sticky with beer and some mysterious substance
We stand.
Shoulder to shoulder.
Next to each other and look in the mirror
But not at eachother
Or rather
She’s looking through me
Or through the mirror at me
But only when it seems
I am not looking back at her.
But I can see right through
And I realize
I’ve seen her there before
She’s the girl who can fill the floor
And dance on the bar every Friday ngiht
Singing “Pour some sugar on me!!!!”
In the name of what?
No not love
Not love for this girl
Not love but feminism?
Feminism

I’m just going to put this out there
There is nothing feminist about taking off your top
We burnt bras back in the day
To say something about sexual slavery
And to take a stab at the fascist fasion institution
But there’s a huge difference between that
And “feminist prostitution”

“hey”
she says to me
“I heard about your nice guy, did he call”
And I’m all “nope”
And she wishes me the best of luck
And saunters into the hall swinging her hips in that tiny skirt
And walks right over to non other
Than Mr. Nice guy
And proceeds to take off her shirt.

It’s not fair that nice guys say
Girls always go for the jackasses
Because honestly
Given the opportunity
They will go blindly
Into the arms of the first permiscuous lady
That flashes them a smile.

And I don’t want to hate on my liberated sisters
But I thought sexual liberation was about
Our own exploration
And not about being the subject
Of some man’s objectification.

And God I’m standing there
Horrified
Because she’s everything I refuse to be
She’s blue eyed and blonde haired
Is that what makes her better tham me?
She’s every man’s fantasy
All gussied up like
Pre-federline brittney
And if that’s what he’s looking for
Then I guess he’s not the guy for me
And maybe I’m not what he’s looking for
Skinny freckled girl nextdoor
Standing tall and proud at 5’4
Ok 5’3
Fine I’m 5’2 and a half
But believe it or not, I can’t leave this in my past

And I’m not mad but I would do anything
To pull that girl off the bar
Grab herby the shoulders and say
Hey you I don’t buy it, you’re not a star,
I know you’re searching for acceptance in a sea of drunken faces
But you’re looking for love in all the wrong places
I know deep down you’re searching for a love that’s true
But that kind of love, baby girls gotta come from within you

And I’m sick of my heels sticking to the floor
And clearly that guys not the one I’ve been looking for
So I get up and get the hell out that door
Byebye nice guy.

It’s true what they say about nice guys
But I think they left out a big part
Yeah, nice guys may finish last
But nice girls, man,
We never even get to start.