Angry Feminist Slam Poem

B. O. Y.

If Beyonce was a boy, she thinks she would understand,
If Beyonce was a boy, she swears she'd be a better man.
And I wonder if Beyonce, a woman of flesh and blood like me
Craves the power and the freedom that drips in molten privilege off the word "boy".
Three small letters, so far from my reach,
Yet one in two of the two people walking down the street
Carries it.
It's slung over his shoulder, all casual,
And it weaves its magic, all casual,
Over casual
...winks and comments.
While the second of the two people walking down the street yearns for a taste it alludes her.
For him and only him, it casts a protective shield that covers any darkened alley,
With its B and its O and its Y.
Boy would I like some of that!
But no, my G. I. R. L. has its own agenda,
My words and actions carry actual consequences
Because did you know G. I. R. L. is actually an acronym for
BITCH STOP YELLING SO MUCH YOU'RE OVERREACTING!
...Whatever.
And instead of a protective shield,
My letters are a magnet.
For fear, for well-lit streets and for yes. Every man.
My letters draw the boundaries of my existence,
A triangular fence with a guard at each point: B. O. Y.
"Mum can I catch a train from Wynyard at 7pm by myself?"
"Absolutely not."
"Mum can I catch a train from Blacktown at midnight with a boy?"
"Yes of course honey,"
If I was a boy, I would jump, fly, leap, twist and spin in my freedom,
Roll and writhe in my silken sheets of opportunity,
If I was a boy, I wouldn't have to explain my three units of maths,
If I was a boy, I wouldn't have to explain my "unladylike" arms,
If I was a boy, I wouldn't have to explain myself,
I wouldn't have to justify my actions as a person,
If I was a boy, I would walk down a street without calculating who would be there to hear me scream.
...
I would miss makeup,
The wings, the highlights, the contours,
But if I was a boy, I wouldn't need it, because I'd wear my confidence in my B and my O and my Y!

By Hannah Blount