My short skirt
is not an invitation a provocation an indication that I want it or give it or that I hook.
My short skirt
is not begging for it
it does not want you
to rip it off me
or pull it up or down.
My short skirt
is not a legal reason
for raping me
although it has been before
it will not hold up
in the new court.
My short skirt, believe it or not
has nothing to do with you.
My short skirt
is about discovering
the power of my calves
about cool autumn air traveling
up my inner thighs
about allowing everything I see
or pass or feel to live inside.
My short skirt is not proof
that I am stupid
or undecided
or a malleable little girl.
My short skirt is my defiance
I will not let you make me afraid
My short skirt is not showing off
this is who I am
before you made me cover it
or tone it down.
Get used to it.
My short skirt is happiness
I can feel myself on the ground.
I am here. I am hot.
My short skirt is a liberation flag in the women’s army I declare these streets, any streets my vagina’s country.
My short skirt
is turquoise water with swimming colored fish
a summer festival in the starry dark
a bird calling
a train arriving in a foreign town.
My short skirt is a wild spin a full breath a tango dip.
My short skirt is initiation, appreciation, excitation.
But mainly my short skirt
and everything under it
is mine, mine, Mine.
—Eve Ensler, I Am An Emotional Creature
