The Whitmer Lament

So, you can pay me less
Critique the way I dress
Tell me that a womb is the only reason
For my existence
Tell me it’s my fault
That I had it coming
That I should be more loving
More maternal and love the color pink
Tell me to cover up
That I haven’t done enough
That ambition will damage my family
That I should try to fit into
Your description
Of femininity
Make me pay insurance
In case that I get raped
Make sure I can’t
have a choice
Because you control my fate!
Call me selfish for not having a child
Evil for living my life for myself, even for awhile
Call me a slut
If my clothes are too revealing
Call me a prude
If you can’t see my skin

Does your testosterone
Give you jurisdiction over what I own
Does it mean that you control me?
On Earth, being a woman means
You’re at the mercy
Of the “majority”.