This poem was inspired by the many conversations I have had with friends and new people I have met along the way. Written during my Europe travels July 2019
what is a feminist conversation?
are they those had
on the front lines, gathered in large groups
marching in hand, stamping our foots
to beat down the patriarchy?
are they long, drawn out discussions, debating all matter of theory
dissecting the world into pieces
crying out in despair
at the existentialism of it all?
are they conversations held
deep underground in the dead of night
in mass groups of women, wringing our hands together
and plotting the downfall of men?
most times they are those we have
in the flows of everyday life,
sandwiched between a world
desperate to undermine our existence.
feminist conversations have become listening spaces
spaces we open to our peers, to new friends,
in order to make sense of this world we find ourselves in.
do you experience this too? I thought I was alone.
they are places to share stories of how we move through this world.
sometimes they are full of anger and rage
nowhere else to project it to,
except for this safe space.
they are spaces to offer solace and compassion
coming from a place of understanding
realising our stories of fear, of hurt
may not be that different after all.
they are places to hear stories
different from our own lived experiences,
ones we rarely get to hear in the mainstream and deserve our attention
where the intersections of identity
meet oppression and privilege.
sometimes they are places to share opposing stories,
ones of optimism and joy
places where we can offer a sense of hope in the future of our world.
they have become spaces to laugh in, cry in
tell stories of love and lost
and have someone to listen to our woes.
sometimes a feminist conversation is simply
where we share ourselves openly and wholly
and have others look at us,
really see us,
I hear you; I see you; I understand you.