I am a slut.
I am a whore.
I am also a bitch.
And to your amazement, I'm just 21.
I was walking down the street the other day in the clothes they call uncultured. My dress barely covered my knees, my shoulder cut made it worse, high heels and make up was a double plus.
They didn't bother to talk to me, they didn't even ask me my name. They assigned me a title, 'slut' for being dressed this way.
And then came my friends in a car, 2 boys of my age. Well dressed they were too, for a party we had to attend. So I sat in their car, and to people I was a whore. I danced with them, I was too loud for girl. And so they declared I could be easily convinced to get into the bed.
I pushed the guy away from me, who tried to touch me thinking it was his right to do so as I was drunk. I declined his proposal and refused his love because to me I thought my consent was enough.
But because I was a slut and a whore to the society, too dressed up and too loud, my consent meant nothing, so now they also declared me a bitch.
I chose a career which degraded my image because who would marry a girl working at night? Because a woman getting money for home was nothing but a disgrace.
Of what I thought about being a rebel, they gave me another name much easy to sell.
I know what the society calls me, so I call myself with those names too.
I called myself a rebel, but now I know, I am a slut, a whore and everything easier to sell.
I am a whore.
I am also a bitch.
And to your amazement, I'm just 21.
I was walking down the street the other day in the clothes they call uncultured. My dress barely covered my knees, my shoulder cut made it worse, high heels and make up was a double plus.
They didn't bother to talk to me, they didn't even ask me my name. They assigned me a title, 'slut' for being dressed this way.
And then came my friends in a car, 2 boys of my age. Well dressed they were too, for a party we had to attend. So I sat in their car, and to people I was a whore. I danced with them, I was too loud for girl. And so they declared I could be easily convinced to get into the bed.
I pushed the guy away from me, who tried to touch me thinking it was his right to do so as I was drunk. I declined his proposal and refused his love because to me I thought my consent was enough.
But because I was a slut and a whore to the society, too dressed up and too loud, my consent meant nothing, so now they also declared me a bitch.
I chose a career which degraded my image because who would marry a girl working at night? Because a woman getting money for home was nothing but a disgrace.
Of what I thought about being a rebel, they gave me another name much easy to sell.
I know what the society calls me, so I call myself with those names too.
I called myself a rebel, but now I know, I am a slut, a whore and everything easier to sell.
So true
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