I’m a human, not a lady

Sometimes I surprise myself with writings I did a while ago and found in my archives. Right now I’m sitting in an entirely different location than I was when I originally wrote this, but the feelings are still reflecting in my behaviors.

Mare Martell

I am not a good girl I am not a good girl

Why do I need to act like a “lady?” What does that even mean? Be a yes, sir, no ma’am demure wall flower in hopes that I’ll get picked to be the next Cinderella? Does that mean I have to put someone else before me always and pray that my needs get met because I was a good girl and followed the rules?

Why do I need to play like a boy when I can be a woman and ditch cars, ride horses, bake cakes, kick dirt, saw wood, paint wordy pictures, dream just like any other human? Why does that even have to have a gender placed on it? We all know what we can do, why separate the two?

Why do I have to be respectable in public when the public slut shames my gender? Starts war upon my sisters with horrible…

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This entry was posted in Human.

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