Midnight Memoirs No. 3
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Midnight Memoirs No. 3

We are just too powerful for that.

Midnight Memoirs No. 3
UN Women Campaign

Why do we as women have to be so sexual?

Why are we supposed to understand how we fit into the mold of societal sexuality?

Don't get me wrong

the realm of lace and silk in the violet hour is intriguing when examining it from the outside,

but it is forced down our throats every waking minute.

Our girls are supposed to

have their first kiss at 13,

lose their virginity at 16, maybe 18,

(if not you're a prude),

find a stable boyfriend by 22,

be married by 29,

have kids by 33,

get a 9 am to 3 pm job so they can be home when the children return home from school,

cook, clean, always be calm,

be on their knees for their husband by 9:45 pm,

not a minute early,

not a minute late,

until their lives are over and they are nothing but a statistic,

a point on a graph,

the dash between numbers on a histogram.

Why can't I live on the outside?

Spend my days out in the sun,

turning life into words and

words into art,

stringing my ideas into reality,

tying our humanity together in a dainty,

little bow.

Why can't I live on the outside?

My hair in the wind;

toes in the sand.

There is a fire at my fingertips,

dying to burn my ideas into reality,

trying to tie our humanity together,

to solve world hunger,

cancer maybe,

poverty possibly.

My vitality is not in my body,

society's property,

but in my words,

my art.

You cannot tell me

to "back down" or "chill out" or "just go with the flow"

because once I do,

once I listen to your societal simplicity,

I become a statistic,

a point on the graph,

the dash between the numbers on a histogram.

You cannot look at a woman,

inexperienced or not,

and call her

a slut,

a whore,

or worse,

a prude.

It's simply not right.

Just like how you cannot force the life of a woman on a graph,

you cannot force the life of a woman into a word.

Let her create life with her own words,

express herself in whatever way she sees fit,

burn her ideas into reality with the mere power of her fingertips,


you cannot force a life of a woman into a statistic,

a point on the graph,

or the dash between the numbers on a histogram.

We are just too powerful for that.

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