You know I hate men.

I really do. I fucking hate them for not getting it and I hate that I have to hate and I can’t pretend I don’t notice the feeling I get when I’m the only girl in the room.

The low humming fear that I’m on the brink of catastrophe. The lion doesn’t kiss the deer. One second, I’m no longer their friend but their prey.

And maybe there’s hope, but maybe there’s actually none at all.

And you know I’m pretty cool and “know how to hang,” but don’t be fooled. I’m pissed all the time and, trust me, I don’t want to “kill the vibe” or not be able to “take a joke,” and I care about my general safety as a woman, but I also care about being liked. So I’ll laugh when you blatantly ask me to suck your dick in front of your friends, but my insides are twisting and I’m starting to feel unsafe and what’s worse is the sinking feeling that I’ve just gone from a person to a woman.

But don’t you worry, I’m still “chill.”

So now I’ll say it, because now I see it and now it’s happening, and the years of sexism and suppression are catching up to me. And I’ve learned how to manipulate the patriarchy. I know how to twirl my hair and kiss and play to please, because how else do we survive?

But what happens when I rip every hair from my head and weave it into a basket for you to pour your emotions into? Yet we’re constantly blamed for having “too much emotion.”

No wonder.

I mean, how would you cope with the constant fear that the underlying motivation behind everything you do is for this “male gaze” bullshit?

And sure, I say things that maybe people are afraid to say.

But don’t you dare paint me as a “strong woman demanding a voice.” Maybe I don’t want to announce this as a public service. Maybe I just want to speak without an auto-generated picture being curated with the key words I use.

I mean Jesus Christ.

And there’s no allegorical message here, so let me be crystal clear. I’m just an angry girl, mad at men for being the way they are, and I don’t know how to fix it.

And I empathize. I mean, I really do. You’ve had it engrained in your minds since the beginning of time that women are less. I’m so sorry that now you have to face the backlash that’s been building for millenniums.

And now that I’ve said I know, I just know, I’ll be shrunken into the singular identity of a woman who rages.

And it’s tragic that the boys don’t get it.

And there’s humor in this oxymoron because I’m just another angry girl screaming for you to get it without wanting to lose her voice.