The place of a woman

The place of a woman is to be weak. You are worse than nothing unless you are meek.

The place of a woman is to doubt what she is, distrust what she did. To look into herself and appraise how she lives.

The place of a woman is to placate, to hush, to retreat. To only speak that which affirms who he is.

The place of a woman is to support the man. To accept his errors as part of the plan. He cannot be wrong, so then who? Look around, it must be you.

The place of a woman is to absorb this blame. For being deficient, for being different, the same.

The place of a woman is the doubling of pain. The place of a woman is to carry this hurt, to wear it and repair it until it’s all that she is.

You carry your own, and then accept his. And you weave it together until it’s the same. Supporting the world with the fabric he dictates.

All this breeds under the stare of the man. You don’t have to listen, you can make a stand. The place of a woman is where ever she likes. She can crush you, it scares you, so you flatten her down. Can’t own your mistakes, so she swallows them down.

And now I will tell you this is how I know; the strength of a woman is twice that of a man.