We were walking on the Main Square in Kraków And there were this guys that protest against abortion with big ass sign with giant photo of a dead fetus. And they were playing the recording (because they didn’t have balls to say it by themselves).
The recording was saying “ Sure women laws are important but what about the unborn women…”. As we were just walking pass them, my (usually silent sister) turns around AND STARTS SHOUTING AT THEM :
“FREEDOM OF CHOICE IS WOMENS ENTITLEMENT! MY BODY IS NOT AN INKUBATOR!!! ”.
After that she walked for a while in her glory…. Then we run away. IT WAS SO AWSOME AND I’M SO PROUD OF HER I WAS GIGLING CONSTANTLY!!!
AND AFTER SHE PROVED SHE IS THE MOST BEDASS WOMEN I KNOW, A GUY THAT WAS DRESSED AS A CHEF GAVE HER A BEAR HUG!!! AND A COUPON FOR HOT CHOCOLATE 😃😂🎇🎉
Some days my feminism looks like
One karate chop away from taking down the patriarchy.
Never allowing bears or chefs or whatevers
to strong arm her. She who loves fiercely
and keeps softness a hidden secret behind
dressing room doors.
Other days my feminism looks like
who tackles dinosaurs and misogyny
like it’s no big deal; puts the bad ass in paleontology.
Handles problems with lighthearted optimism,
all while cracking a grin but some days cannot help
Often my feminism looks like
Hands unable to stop shaking. Unwanted
memories clogging clarity. Knowing that this game
is far from over; that we have so much left to fight for.
This unfulfilled hunger pushes her through
the muck, the tears to steady her hands
and die trying.
But today my feminism looks like
looks like a tired mouth justifying equality;
looks like fists marking another day off the calendar;
looks like an extra shot of espresso.
Let me dive into these shows, these books, these films
to live in a world where the women
are made of such stronger stuff.
Today my feminism looks like
a worn out punching bag;
see my knuckles, how they bleed with hunger
and my hands, my god, my hands,