Thank God I’m a Woman

Thank God I’m a woman ‘cause I’m already white
And without these breasts I’d have no reason to fight.

Thank God for Stacey London whose high heels give her power
But I’ve never seen her running or cooling blisters in the shower.

And despite all this air that flows between my thighs
There’s no shortage of stares—this whole world is all eyes.

But it’s more than just eyes; it’s salivating mouths
Spilling milky on the sides and ignoring my shouts.

Thank God for my cousin who watched me get undressed
I was just thirteen, the bedroom was a mess.

He was five years older, I seem to remember
And I was five times colder—standing naked in December.

He watched his sisters too and told us we were fat
Which was nothing new, but we still felt bad about that.

Then it became a joke: “Did he watch you today?”
What joy he could evoke by standing in the doorway.

Thank God I’m anorexic, so I can please my man
I learned early on to be as thin as I can.

Thank God I’m a woman so that I can complain
So why do I feel guilty? Like this poem is in vain?

All those licked lips on the metro and the bus
If they were still dry would I make such a fuss?

If my professor didn’t wink and look at my chest
Like a curious physician inspecting my breast

Would I be happier if that were the case?
If all that interested men was my face?

I’m sorry to say and I’m crying right now
A confession is coming with sweat on my brow

Thank God for this skirt and these hands to hike it,
I say I hate this attention, but I secretly like it.