She’s Not Smiling Now

By Peter Harris

All women know the drill.

Look over your shoulder. Cross the street.

Hold your keys between fingers. Don’t look too sweet.

Hand over top of your glass, when a stranger approaches in a bar.

Don’t go jogging when it’s dark. Don’t park too far.

Never let a girlfriend go to the bathroom alone.

Because you never really are alone

When the eyes never cease to roam.

It’s not all men. I promise you that.

But her mind still holds a bat.

Not for you, maybe. Not tonight.

But for the next time someone doesn’t take no right.

You think she’s dramatic, but she’s just survived,

a world where her safety is never implied.

Where she’s told don’t wear that,

don’t walk there,

don’t drink too much,

don’t act unaware.

Where the lesson is “how to avoid being raped,”

Instead of “don’t rape!”

Like it was her choice. Like it’s her fault.

Like she’s the one who needs to evolve.

Like modesty is a shield, and silence is consent.

Like she has to forgive the things that men “never meant.”

It's embarrassing how men get so insulted.

So wounded by the suggestion they could be part of the problem.

Man, why would she trust your politeness?

Your words speak kindness,

but your voice sounds like violence.

She knows the tone, she's heard it before.

Maybe she’s known since as early as four —

When she saw her dad not get his way

and he put her mum back into her place.

Maybe she was fourteen when she found out

some people didn’t consider her body hers.

That she had to earn her safety —

By smiling.

By dressing “appropriately.”

By not being loud, not being seen,

not being too much, not being anything.

They want her to be confident and sexy.

Playful, have self-worth, and be bubbly.

But how can she know the price of her body

if it was taken for free?

The media protects the names

Of the men who violate and vandalise little girls —

Who eviscerate the confidence and the safety of the women they become —

Who play the victim with vindictive claims of:

“She wanted it, 'cause her skirt was short.

'Cause she smiled.”

Well, she’s not smiling now.

And how can we ever expect her to smile again.

When only 13% of sexual assaults in Australia are reported.

And less than 5% of rapists serve jail time.

So don’t tell her to be sweet.

Don’t tell her to calm down.

Don’t tell her it’s not all men

like you deserve a crown.

To the men:

If it’s not you,

then prove it’s not you.

Not with a tweet. Not with a meme.

But with your eyes when she says no.

With your hands when you’re told to let go.

With the way you call out your mate

when he talks like women are things he can break.

Stop laughing at the jokes.

Stop shrugging it off.

Stop being afraid of being the buzzkill,

when she’s afraid of being the next one killed.

You don’t need to be her hero,

but you do need to be human.

And if you really want her to feel safe —

Start by making it unsafe

for other men

to make her afraid.

Give them no place where they’re

wanted, nowhere to call home, no

hope to get off scotch-free with their

antiquated ways, and their cave-man mind.

No more silence, no more compromise.

Let today be the day the patriarchy dies.

By Peter Harris