Something of a Womanifesto.

Perfection is in the eye of the believer and the girl sitting in from of me with the long, mascaraed lashes and salon made hair believes in perfection with all of her heart.
There is no such thing as perfection.
Perfection is a myth.
It's subjective and situational, historical and trendy. It is a facet in the societal brainwashing that tells us, the possessors of pussies, how to look, what to think, how to act, what to eat. It is all-consuming and devours life and youth.
Life is too short to destroy yourself chasing such a vicious wet dream.
Just because you stop looking and listening doesn't mean the patriarchal clutch has released - it's just evolved and lulled you into a false sense of security.
It's hips, tits, lips, and ass - stay focused. It's never our hearts, minds, work, and words - stay focused.
They've got t-shirts telling us "Girl Power" and "We Can Do It" - but no one, especially not the cunt-bearing we, should need reminding.
We are and always have been the backbone of what's called civilization.
We are the life-givers, the story-tellers, the lovers, and the warriors.
Every human being holds one identical bit of knowledge - the first thing we knew was the womb.
They've got us hating our beautiful bodies and thinking that laws have some hold over them. They've got us turning on ourselves, ladies. They've got us judging and hating, dismissing rather than relating. They've been beating us down for centuries - feeding us false prophecies and destinies.
We're only as broken, we're only as voiceless, we're only as weak as we let ourselves be.
Our hands do not belong politely folded atop our ankle crossed laps - they belong clenched, ready to fight, thrown to the sky.
A fist in the air and a finger in their face.
We are not breeders, we are not places to make bruises, we are not objects, we are not disposable.
We are miraculous and amazing, we have voices and unspeakable power -
and no one,
NO ONE,
can stop us
if we don't let them.