Men Hate Women

Men don’t like women.
Men like the idea of women, the femininity of women, but they hate women.
Men like the natural beauty of perfectly applied concealer to hide how exhausted we are of them;
they like the black mascara making our lashes beautifully curled and voluminous
and the promise of it running down our faces when we give them what they refuse to return.

Men don’t like women.
Men like an image of slim, yet simultaneously curvaceous, voluptuous,
everything in the right places,
as if we’re nothing but parts they can put together
and build something they like.

Men don’t like women.
Men like the emotional labour we perform,
the availability of our bodies that aren’t even our own.
Men hate women.

Men hate everything that reminds them that we’re women:
they hate our blood, they hate our hair, they hate our smell,
they hate that we can feel, talk, stand up by ourselves.
They hate us when we don’t love them,
when we bleed and refuse to have our bodies torn apart by them.

Men don’t like women
so we must love ourselves.