Fked by the patriarchy Again and Again – we take the chairs, we send the phones, we pay the theft and we say NO, fk that!

True tales of two women in Kenya, in a Longette Lite by Jessica Perini (edited by Catherin J Pascal Dunk)

It’s the small things that count — right? But why
should we always have to fight — for even the small things?
It’s sending a package — a second-hand phone,
to give voice to those unknown women in Kenya
and being charged the price of the package
Plus its postage IN US FRIKING $ to “discourage imports”.
Fkers. It’s a second-hand phone!!
Postal workers, customs. Thefting from women — pure and simple
That’s what you’re doing — assisting in a woman’s ruin.

It’s the land, handed down in death from one man to another,
’til all the men are gone — then women profit — only, no documents,
So when, decades later, another man says, Hey, that’s my land,
The women say No! my father gave it, through his death. 
And the man says, Prove it! Pay money you don’t have, or we’ll remove it.
Then she sells all in hand, mortgages her soul, finally, puts down her pride
Begs the westerners by her side — to help claim what’s already hers
Because no sympathy, no common sense, no natural justice exists.
Now once again, in Kenya, the lawyer men, the bureaucrats line
their silken pockets — to her (and their) demise. Oh, Kenya!
Why you hate women so much?

It’s another moment in Kenya … in a long line of moments …
A girl does her best on the football field. Too well for local sports
But local sports are all she’s offered. Well below her kickability 
for want of funds. Her single mum, though educated, well travelled,
is now unravelled
financially — uncoupled from Man and hut dwelling. A lesser lifeform,
now she’s not a Mrs. Still, she regenerates the land, does all she can.

It’s seeing the panel of men (a Manel) at a conference about women —
A row of chairs all seated with Not One breasted contestant
Deciding women’s futures. It’s their world — they decide —
Women ain’t by their side for the ride. 
Finally, 20 minutes in –– one woman rises, takes a chair. Men stare
in awe, like women’s voices never struck them before.

Abuse comes in many forms. Abuse by money, especially,
A low but stealthy form of silencing voices, women’s choices.
Keeping women down — well that ain’t no crown to crow over!

But Ms DJ turn the music up — Because fk that, Fk it all —
We pay the theft fee to hear them speak! We contest the land grab
So they can regenerate their soils! We clap when a woman takes a chair
Hail the courage it takes to stand up and stare them down —
State the obvious: women’s voices count.

Think about it. Think about the sound. Of what it takes to keep
the heads of half your population to the ground. Why?
So you can stand on their backs until they break? So you can spot the sky?
Forgive my prying — but at what price?

We are watching you. They have phones now, internet. We are watching, talking. 
We don’t stand you standing on their backs ’til they crumble. 
We are here, we have means. We can give them a hand. 
And we will not stand you standing on their backs.
We will not be silent — until we hear their voices on the end of the line; 
until they take a seat — nay, all the chairs — until they have the land, the documents in hand.

Kenya, take note: Your short-sighted vision of women is Ending. 
Don your glasses. The sun is rising. 

If this poem has inspired you to donate to these women’s causes, click here:

https://givebutter.com/carolyn-olang-shegenerators

https://givebutter.com/girlswecan

Gallery above and cover photo show Carolyn Olang and her work in Kenya.