When will the time come?
When will I,
among countless brilliant women,
be able to speak my mind
without being called dramatic?
Without my voice
getting lost in the static?
Without being pushed aside?
Without fighting my way
through a crowd of guys
just to be heard?
Without tears
being treated as evidence
instead of emotion?
Who decided,
all those years ago,
that women were less?
That we were neither friend nor foe,
That we were just for show,
That we were only meant to be certain things
only mothers,
only wives,
only something pretty
And it’s these kind of ideas that I despise
Who decided
we weren't capable of more?
Don't tell me it's biology.
Don't tell me it's a joke.
Comedy.
Because somewhere,
Someone made a choice.
Someone built a world
where men gave the orders
and women asked permission.
When will we truly stand equal?
The same right to speak.
The same right to fight.
The same pay.
The same respect.
The same certainty
that what we say today
will still matter tomorrow.
But that still doesn't answer
my question.
Who made the selection?
Who made the decision
Only my time has run out
And I can only continue with your permission