*Text of the poem typed below the image for ease of reading.* On finding my voice. It’s not easy making my voice heard as a woman writer. It’s just the cold, hard truth. Which means I just push myself harder to be the best at my craft. No excuses. I play Words like I play Sports; no pain, no gain, and never ever leave your heart on the bench. I encourage you all to be secure in your identity, whether you’re a writer or not, and to chase after your calling, your passions and dreams, without ever holding back. Who are you? What makes you *you*? And what mark do you wish to leave upon the world? Ignore expectations and stereotypes; dig deep and ask yourself the tough questions. It’s enlightening and liberating to take the time to sit and write your own self-declaration of who you are. What will YOUR legacy be?
This is a man’s profession.
Always has been.
Men led the charge with the raw and the real while
women got shoved into the touchy-feely category a long time ago.
I’m no feminazi, let me be clear about that.
I love men. Men are wonderful.
I actually love the style of male writers more so than women,
apologies to my sex.
Men tap into that visceral side of human nature so easily,
writing about the unbearable pain and the beauty in simple moments.
They cut to the chase. They don’t bother skirting around the point.
They just make it….And I love that.
But the truth of the matter is:
I am woman, hear me…type…
and do so with borrowed traits from both sexes;
writing with a man’s prerogative, yet with a woman’s instinct,
tapping into the immensely broad spectrum of female emotion.
I will be gritty and crude and harsh and graphic
and tear down your expectations of what I will say
when my tongue gets ahold of this typewriter.
I will show you a man’s integrity through a woman’s cunning.
I will give you a boy’s brave, adventuresome story told with a girl’s complex imagination.
I am no ordinary female, as you will come to see.
I promise you the day will come when you will hear my name and smile quietly,
remembering how I crushed the conformity
of this trending “uniquely common” female writer
with unparalleled passion and grace.
You will chuckle when you see what I’ve done,
because I’m on this journey to prove myself
and all the dilettantes who thought they knew me.
Crazy? Sure. We all have to be a little crazy in this profession.
Because what is the point of truly loving something
if you cannot do so with unwavering passion?
The day of my dower is coming, its breath disturbing my nape.
But I hope that it is nothing like how it will disturb yours.
I am no revolutionary;
I merely desire a legacy of inspiration and encouragement, of defiance and endurance,
one that I won’t be ashamed of when I glance back on my colorful life.
This may be a man’s market I got myself into, but, with no disrespect,
I’ll be damned if I am to be defined by the constraints of my foremothers.