By: Anukriti Jayant


It all starts when you’re born; your first breath isn’t yours.

For some it may bring love

(conciliatory, fresh, and passably pure),

for others, it may get smothered

(sometimes slowly, as hatred wraps itself around a fragile little neck, cutting off oxygen from a newly constructed respiratory passage still getting used to an unhindered supply of life; sometimes with the snap of a finger, as they pour molten glass down a mouth hole, 1.5 cm in diameter, almost half the radius of their rough thumbs).

You’re human, aren’t you?

I know it, but they don’t.


Once you get to live through another day, they pull the curtains from your bright-dreamy eyes. But you don’t see the sun as they do.


You see fire, all around. and everything is burning (your head your feet your hair your skin your heart and you)!!!

You ache with bleeding pain and they tell you “you’re ‘HOT’. Sexy. Laugh about it. A demure smile, yeah that one.” Maybe you do. Musing…

(“love?admiration?could it be?maybe..then it’s alright.”)


I don’t understand, clarify it for me: do they want you to sit on a buffet table (“smokin’ hot”), dressed in your best nakedness because that’s how they’d like to have you (your body shining like fresh, tender meat- slick with perfumed moisturizer they’d like to lick off your skin, later, for dessert)?



Skin yourself alive. Your love handles won’t bring you any love. Stuff your non-existent breasts. Where’s the fun in groping a stick-puppet? If you want to compete with that SLUTTY BIMBO we’ve coerced you into hating (divide and rule, you see?), you’ll have to break off the glasses from the face of this FREAKSHOW you call your…personality- impale yourself from head to toe- sprinkle red chillies on your wounds- bleed yourself to death, out under the bright sun- then we’ll dress you up like her- throw angry/lusty/moralizing glances at you- would want to blow up your skirts and rip your pants- call you out again- tell you to be smart/worthy/intelligent- start it all over again- a million combinations and characters-

(“oh, but my brain is not my bo–”, “SHUTTHATHOLEINYOURFACE!!!”)

(“oh, but my body is where I li–”, “SHUTITORWEWILL!!!”)

(“oh, but I—-”,*unzip**slap sounds**gunshot*)



You are a human. Tell them.

XX Chromosome- pure chance,

utterly irrelevant, but not.

Homo sapiens sapiens.

That’s it.

But Your brain is not just Your body.

Your body is where You live.

You are both body and brain in one being.

Independent of each other.

Not their food, machine, bed.

The clothes they give You are as useless as their needs.

You are a ‘woman’ only if You want it.



2 thoughts on “You

  1. I think the above poem is full of conviction and spirit.

    It has been written in a very direct style which is what I appreciate. There is nothing purple and long-winded. It seeks to extend the thought and emotion rather than merely theatricality, although the it appeared to be aiming just that, at the outset.

    Good work by the poet/ess , Anukriti.



    1. Thank you for your feedback! We love hearing from our blog followers. So happy to hear this poem resonated with you in a deep and meaningful way.


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