They forgot that we are Women
They called her a know-it-all. They told her that she was annoying and would never have any friends. They told her she was a mudblood, not worthy to flourish a wand or brew a potion or stand beside the ones they called purebloods. They told her she couldn’t. They forgot that she was persistence, she was strength, that the most important things were friendship and bravery. They forgot that she was Hermione Granger.
They called her crazy. They told her that she would never be anything more than the loony girl who read the quibbler, that crumple-horned snorcacks and nargles were fairytales her father told her to help her get to sleep. They told her that she would never fit in. They forgot that she didn’t want to fit in, that she was secret wisdom and serenity, that they were just as sane as she was. They forgot that she was Luna Lovegood.
They called her small. They told her that she was overshadowed by her brothers, that she was a slut who dated too many boys and who loved the Boy Who Lived because he brought her recognition. They forgot that she didn’t need a boy to bring her recognition, that quidditch and power and rebellion and the bat-bogey hex flowed in her veins. They forgot that anything was possible if you’ve got enough nerve. They forgot that she was Ginny Weasley.
They called her needy. They told her she was clingy and useless and that she needed a boy to define her. They forgot that she truly loved him, she just didn’t know how to show it. They forgot that even though she was afraid, she fought and died for her friends. They forgot that she was Lavender Brown.
They called her self-absorbed. They tpld her she had no right to be in Gryffindor, that she was a sucker for attention from professors like Trelawney, that Harry Potter had only taken her to the Yule Ball because he had no one else to take. They forgot that she was intelligence and small doses of courage and a true friend. They forgot that she was the prettiest girl in her year. They forgot that she was Parvati Patil.
They called her shallow. They told her that she was gorgeous only on the outside, that she was stuck-up and patronizing. They forgot that she would die for the ones she loved, that looks meant nothing to her, that she was as much a fairy princess as they were. They forgot that she was Fleur Delacour.
They called her weak. They told her to get over her tears, that she would be happy again if she only tried, that she wouldn’t survive a storm. They forgot that she was the storm, that she was hidden strength, that her fury was as strong as her sorrow. They forgot that even if they had the emotional range of a teaspoon, she didn’t. They forgot that she was Cho Chang.
They called us many names
but they forgot that we are W O M E N