Wearing Red

 

I am wearing red tomorrow for the sluts, the troublemakers, the loudmouths, the shit stirrers.

I love them.

I am wearing red tomorrow for the women whose lives femicide took away.

I grieve for them.

I am wearing red tomorrow for the women like my great grandmother, who raise their children alone, who work hard and are never thanked.

I am amazed by them.

I am wearing red tomorrow for women who weren’t believed, women who were ignored or pushed aside or told they weren’t enough.

I am wearing red tomorrow for women who have to apologize just for speaking their minds.

I am wearing red tomorrow for women who don’t apologize, and are punished for it.

I am wearing red for mothers who are told feeding their children is obscene.

I am wearing red for women who died without access to safe abortions.

For the women who are interrupted by men who think they know better.

For all the women who have ever had to  listen to someone say , “real women….”  as if there are fake ones.

For women who are told they wear too much makeup or not enough, who are told they are too fat or too skinny, too prudish or showing too much skin  or too masculine or too feminine.

For the women who are told they don’t deserve the space they take up.

For women who are different than me, whose hardships are different than mine.

I am wearing red for all women who are suffering, whether their suffering is the same as mine or not.
For the women who are striking and the ones who cannot.
I am wearing red because it is a color that won’t be forgotten,

the same color as all the blood shed in this struggle.

I am wearing red because people think red is dangerous, and I want them to know that taking our rights away is dangerous too.

I am wearing red for my mother, my cousins, my friends, my professors, my coworkers, my classmates.

I am wearing red for myself.

You should too.Red

 

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