Social Injustice ∼ 5 Poems
By Jennifer Lagier
Narration by Jennifer Lagier
2019 Women’s March
“I Am No Longer Accepting the Things I Cannot Change – I Am Changing the Things I Cannot Accept.” – Picket Sign, 2019 Monterey Women’s March
Among pink tee shirts,
pussy hats, sign-toting marchers,
older women reminisce of similar protests
during previous decades.
We show up to promote
strength, unity, kindness,
protection for Mother Earth,
civil rights, reproductive freedom.
We have survived harassment, repression,
are no longer willing
to silently seethe
from the sidelines.
Together, we take back the streets,
march and chant,
demonstrate feminine power
in jubilant numbers.
I Am One of Them
It was 1969,
a summer
of date-rape
mislabeled free love.
The guy was
a friend of a friend.
I only knew him as John.
He invited me over
for a toke after work,
poured a glass of Red Mountain.
Even now,
I feel him
blocking my screams,
using his mouth
as a weapon.
Stoned, I couldn’t
fight back,
endured pain, humiliation,
seethed at becoming
one more of his victims.
After, I drove myself home,
smeared thick makeup
over visible bite marks,
scratches and bruises.
Never told a soul.
Still flinch
from nightmares,
unwanted touching.
Me Too
Older cousins began touching
before I was ten.
By twelve, men eyed
my newly sprouted curves,
made suggestive remarks
I did not understand.
Car seat wrestling matches
with horny dates started
the year I turned 16.
Marriage at 19
took me off the meat market
for over ten years.
As a 30-year-old divorcee,
I fielded come-ons
from males 18-80,
so many sexist suggestions,
I considered celibate seclusion
or switching teams.
Nasty Women
Women are angry.
Fed up with being treated
like servants, sex toys,
disposable baggage.
They stand up, speak out,
cast off victimhood,
refuse to silently cower,
hide in the shadows.
Dangerous Amazons declare war
against misogyny, explode
the good old boy network,
reclaim their power.
Touched
“Deborah Ramirez told The New Yorker that Kavanaugh thrust his penis in her face at a dorm party at Yale University in the early 1980s.” – Huffington Post
When it happens to you,
uninvited ass pat,
unwanted neck massage,
unwelcome tongue shoved down your throat,
how should you react?
What if it’s a friend who,
after a few drinks,
decides it’s o.k
to unzip his pants,
shove a dick in your face?
At that moment,
you understand clearly
that a 115 pound woman
cannot safely fend off
a 200 pound, drunken man.
For decades, you’ll relive
forced sexual assault,
tender parts tearing,
his sadistic laughter
always inside your head.