Sexism

Do you remember the late nights?
The late nights of walking up a street not sure what not sure what direction we are going
the acid is fueling our hearts and our hearts are fueling our brains
and we’re not sure if that’s the right thing but we’re sure as hell going to follow it
because we’re not sure what else to follow
 isn’t this how this all began 
not sure what the hell else we’re going to follow
do you remember the late nights?
The late nights with all your friends
me saying the wrong thing and you getting upset
meanwhile, your friends continue  looking at me like I am the porn star of their dreams
you looking at me like like I am the flaming monster
that you once  were scared of when you were a child 
 is that what made it so special?
Do you remember the day we met 
my mind not knowing what sexualism even is 
my blood raging with the alcoholic fire of what I thought was part of being a woman 
my body being sexualized by what I called love 
That day you branded me with the Sexualizing flaming  red burning brand of being a woman
do you remember the next day
 when I said the wrong thing and you punched a hole in the wall 
but I had to chase you up the street because our dope fueled love was finally coming down and I wasn’t enough 
I  sexualized myself to prove that I was enough to be called woman
This is just one of the many stories that I have of a man that I made love me because I had to prove to the society that my body was enough 
sexualism is the story of women 
 parties or what we call home 
and men are our baskets that we once wove 
Being a woman is the biggest hardship most women will ever face 
men think childbirth is degrading but men are degrading 
I grew up with a father who tucked  me in every night
 I grew up with the father who my earliest memory of him was holding his arms and it shapes the way that I sleep to this day 
if I’m alone in bed I’ll wake up twenty times a night but if I have an arm to hold I can sleep all day 
that same father that held me and is the same father that beat my mother every night 
that same father that I had dreams of holding me is the same man that forced himself into my mother
 that same man that I looked up too is the same man that only ever looked forward to another hit
is this the reason why I sexualize my entire life? 
at the age of 15 have had more men sexualize me than most women in their 50s
 that’s not because my father didn’t love me 
my father loved me with all his heart 
this was because my whole life I had to fight for my father to notice me 
I had to cry for him to hold me 
And now every time I  go to a party men look at me and I think back to how my mother would fight for his attention 
my first boyfriend told me he loved me and on my birthday he took my virginity in the backseat of his car 
we were together for six months and the farthest place we ever been was the front seat
and to this day I still talk to him 
and every now and again I let him sexualize me and then I cry and I blame him 
and in reality it’s not him it’s his mother for never teaching him the difference of sex and love 
it is Society for never teaching him why a woman is so precious
 and it’s my father‘s fault because every time he held me all I thought about was how he would hit my mother with the same hands