When Silence Was My Prison Guard

By Riya Sheth

Whenever she sits at her desk to write

She asks herself 

Why always patriarchy?

Because most days, she says  

Her mind feels like an unclogged drain

Overflowing with helplessness, 

With opinions,

With anger,

Where the gutters of guilt are trying to crawl up her throat

Handcuffing the screams of protest from her hold

And letting silence guard the prison door

Shame chokes the air in her lungs 

When she asks herself this question

Wasn't it convenient?

Keeping feminism in your pocket

Until it was appropriate enough to be revealed

As if it's the wedding night of some bride-to-be?

Wasn't it convenient to not stand up?

When they took your space for permission

Fearing that the length of your skirt would be their first question

Wasn't it convenient to talk about body positivity?

When you left your body to play hide and seek with your clothes

Wasn't it convenient to stay silent when you met patriarchy?

Only to later wash your mouth with feminism 

Hoping that it would lessen the smell of guilt on your tongue

Each night she furiously washes her hands 

But unlike Macbeth

She wasn't trying to rub off blood

Was rather trying to wash away her hypocrisy

Three years since, 

She's learning to turn her helplessness into poetry

She's learning not to wordlessly eat when served misogyny

She's learning to accept that she's more than just her body

She's relearning how to be a feminist

And in this course of time

She just wants you all to know that

Let go of your silence

Before the wounds turn into scars

By Riya Sheth