When I was nine

I read a book

titled Twilight

like that perfect moment

between night and day

and I thought

it was so pretty

until I found out

it didn't mean anything.

And when I was nine,

I needed words

like I needed water,

each one like

another desperate gulp

of the vital nectar

which kept me alive.

I needed them

to make me whole,

to make me human.

So when I read Twilight,

it meant more to me

than any bible could

because the words

were the most

wonderful

thing I had ever tasted.

But I didn't realize that

the holy water

had been poisoned.

And I didn't realize

that it was her words,

the glorious language

of Stephenie Meyer,

which I drowned in

like the Styx River,

telling me that:

no man will ever love me

while I look like this,

and how will I ever

be worth anything

if I am not loved?

Because women

are boring

and useless

and can only be made into

something beautiful

if a man loves them.

Because a women

wrote down her dreams

which shaped my nightmares.

And it was within

Edward's life span

that I learned

that maybe what was ugly

was telling little girls

what their futures would hold;

that the only man worth loving

should be so white

he glimmers;

that said man,

the one you should love

for an eternity,

should look young

because old people.

Ew.

And obviously

Native American are werewolves

because only people so

connected to the natural world

could be apart of it.

And maybe it's ugly

that a little girl

should look in a mirror

and cry when she can't

see the stars

between her thighs,

who can't eat without

everything tasting bitter,

who can't feel pretty

because she isn't

as "pretty"

as the models on TV.

Maybe it's ugly

that its insulting

to call someone

words that make

my genitals

seem animalistic,

because when has

my genitila hurt you?

Bitch.

And all those other words

you used to describe

girls wearing shorts

in the summer.

Sorry,

I knew my genitals

really hurt,

so obviously

my having sex

was like a kick

between your legs.

I don't have

the class of a lady

and the morals

of a man;

I am a human being

who has had my rights stolen

before more than just

life,

liberty,

and the pursuit of happiness.

It's you.

You.

You on Wattpad,

and me.

When I read your story

about stealing panties

and bad boys loving

and the nerd

becoming "pretty"

and being saved

by your rapist because

when he touched you,

without your permission,

you felt something.

Something-

obviously not hate,

or disgust,

anger,

hurt,

but love.

That love,

a toxic lie,

told to us by a broken girl

who has had been told

that her femininity is a curse,

that patriarchy is a crusade,

that she has been indefinitely

shattered by biology;

it isn't always the man

who rapes

because one of the lens

in his gendered glasses

are blurred

who needs fixing.

It's the people,

the citizens,

the youth,

who have been told

that being a victim

is beautiful.

That depression

slims the hips,

that social anxiety

looks cute

with a dress.

We need to educate

the world

that feminism isn't a bad word

and that's it's still vital,

as it can only be

so witch-like

in a patriarchy.

And people who say

that it isn't important:

screw you.

Screw you

because you're saying

that I have never felt

lesser

because I'm a woman.

You're saying that

no woman has felt this.

And,

worse of all,

you're saying that it's

okay.

That's it's alright that

women are afraid to

wear a dress

because they're afraid

that a man will touch them,

that it's okay that men

can make millions

of dollars playing

professional sports

and women make

nothing,

that it's okay that

J.K. Rowling

didn't put Joanne Katherine

on her books because

she was told that

a woman's name

would never sell.

And I have never heard

two syllables,

two letters,

sound so vicious.

O.K.

Feminism is about

empowering people

to make choices

without being restricted

by something

as shallow

as genitala;

it's not a choice

to teach people

that being able

to make your own

decisions is okay.

People need to know

that their skin

is not a restriction

but just a shell for the

marvelous

creature that resides

within you.

And who you are

is not defined

by how different you are,

by how you look,

by the world.

It's defined by

the melody of your voice

when you laugh

and your eyes when

you tell me a story

and how beautiful

you look

when you smile

because when you're happy,

no model can compare

to you.

Because I love you for you,

so don't let that

gorgeous,

blue-eyed

monster tell you that

you need to be

short

and brunette

and hairless

to be loved

Because I love the you

that loves yourself,

and I want the world

to love itself.

Because it's a shame

that something as simple

as a chromosome

can change your destiny.

X and Y,

hello and goodbye,

this is how

I was broken

and repaired.

And I promise

to fix you.