I Love You Better Than He Has

I didn’t just create you for birth,

but for life and and for living;

Prana, ma’at, you can call it whatever.

I know you are worth

more than the credit you’re given

when your shoulders are slender,

and you’re body is curved —

but sometimes it’s not.

And that’s the right look for her.

Her being you.

Because I care more about the heart you use,

than the position of your hips and tubes.

When you represent me, I want people to see

that the woman I love is human.

Made with courage, not subdued and,

you’re made in my image, made with a conscience

made with opinions, feelings and thoughts that,

thought they go through a new order, a different process

show the world that I’m a lover of softness.

Not darkness.

Not the alley where he would trip you, take you,

or the the days when he would make you

use your own home for his “solace.”

 

Because he doesn’t know I think of you

Asleep

Next to me

After a long day of running

-the show,

-away,

You wake up to a world not made for you;

Where you don’t know shape number, and order

Because you can’t uncover your face

much less write your name.

But your name is written on my brain

my heart is broken

By the words said and unspoken

My lover,

it will soon be over
I love you better than he has,

For centuries…

He’s turned to me,

He thinks I am glad,

For my bro, of the way he’s owned you

Honed you, fucked and disowned you.

He thinks I am pleased

When he let’s you bleed, doesn’t let you speak

Because I don’t need to uncovered your head

and haven’t unbound you, physically.

I want to you to be free

I gave my word, inspired,

But you only see one side.

Exact, literal, “ un-mired”

Misunderstanding my true wish

I made many Viewers to make things clearer

But he won’t hear it

The man you love despises you,

Because bros before hoes

No ifs, no buts, no sluts

But prude is too you,

It’s not his view

of my hope for you

 

Because he doesn’t know I think of you

Asleep

Next to me

After a long day of running

-the show,

-away,

You wake up to a world not made for you

Where you don’t know shape number, and order

Because you can’t uncover your face

Much less write your name

But your name is written on my brain

my heart is broken

By the words said and unspoken

My lover,

it will soon be over

Notes on the Piece

The narrator is written as a parent, a lover, and a divinity – not necessarily one person. The multiple dimensions of the narrator character overlap, so interpretation of the of the voice sometimes reads as ambiguous. My favorite current example of this is my interpretation of Sia’s music video for “Elastic Heart.” It’s certainly not sexual (I mean, come on, the girl is a child and the man is inhuman), but it is sensual enough to make a viewer pay attention to every detail almost uncomfortably waiting for them to be too close, too sexual. Their animalistic nature as “tamer and beast,” or as “person and disorder,” could turn to a different animal nature. But, it doesn’t. And so it opens the viewer to a perspective on unusual relationships with closeness and beauty independent of sex, but not independent of the sensual.

Secondly, I was really overwhelmed with social media filled with rape culture conversation, men who are shamed for raising strong daughters, stereotypes that girls are bad at anything STEM or physical, body shame, slut-shaming, faith-shaming, and religious excuses for exclusion…among other things. I could certainly list more. It’s honestly a lot to “be aware of,” and “be on your guard for” every moment of every day.

So, anyway, this narrator is speaking especially to females, but really everyone, about how we got it all wrong from the very beginning. They are actually appalled that anyone would demean creation, discourage daughters, sexually offend lovers. Frequently, we religious people (all genders) claim that women are lesser beings by the decree of a creator. My concept obviously challenges that idea. I am super tired of the gender-crap (pun on gender-gap, yes). No one that loves me, truly loves, would look me in the eyes and say that I don’t have a soul, that I am property, that I am unworthy of love, that I can’t think, and that God doesn’t want me to worship with the talents I am given. Sometimes, that means a gal is going to speak in church, in the streets, in the holy places, or at work. Listening to her, to all she has to say, will not kill you. Her approach may be different, may be novel, may be scary when it challenges yours, but it will help with conversation. When a woman challenges your opinion, especially in these forbidden spaces, (whatever your gender), or presents her own opinion first — heaven forbid — it is likely not for the sake of tearing you down. See, conversation doesn’t inherently need to be competitive. One idea doesn’t survive on “winning” a conversation. That’s not actually a conversation. Rather, conversation occurs when different ideas are presented and an idea is honed from multiple perspectives to be sharper and stronger than ever before. My ideas are not the only ideas on this subject. I am starting my conversation with the rest of the world that I should have started ages ago because I want to live in a sharper, stronger, smarter, and more loving society.

 

A final note, because I take this very seriously…

The line, “Because you can’t uncover your face,” refer’s to hiding your face behind your hands from an oppressor or an abuser, not wearing a hijab or other head coverings. The mental imagery is that the woman cannot write her name with her hands when her hands are covering her face in fear, instead. To really make the point that the head coverings are not the problem, I later use the line, “Because I don’t need to uncovered your head,” to say that women are sometimes oppressed because of our appearance. Women in the US are still not expected to wear a head covering and when one does, it’s socially stigmatizing. I have a problem with the fact that sometimes we are oppressed when we adhere to our traditions – as though paying respect to the rich family history of those who raised us somehow makes us less progressive or worthy of ridicule or oppression. We are constantly defining new paradigms for ourselves and that looks different for every woman, every person.

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