I Wish You'd Dye Your Hair
By jem
- 3739 reads
It’s the 253 on the top near the back,
The windows are misted and water-flecked ,
There’s a clump of boys at the back,
They watch as I get on and mutter amongst themselves
Me with my book, they’re shouting and laughing hard.
Suddenly a note in my lap
In capitals sideways on lined paper:
WHEN YOU GET OFF THIS BUS WE WILL RAPE YOU.
You’re so over-emotional,
You can be my second-wife
(she won’t mind if we don’t tell her),
I wish you’d wear high heels.
Pilgrimage.
It’s hot and the air is thick,
Me in a long-sleeved T-shirt and trousers,
A group of topless men approach with camera phones
Pull my top out and
Stick their phones down and
Take photos of my breasts,
More laughing, more unafraid.
An older man approaches with a cloth,
Shakes his head at me:
Cover yourself up. This is a holy place.
You must be frigid,
You must be an angel,
You’re eight out of ten.
I wish you’d dye your hair.
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Comments
This scene is all to common.
This scene is all to common.
Also a sad reflection on how men/boys appear to treat women with total disdain.
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The use of 'their' taunting
The use of 'their' taunting voices gives this lots of strength, Jem. You highlight social and cultural norms with such authorial confidence. This makes people uncomfortable and it tortures them, they want to swat it away like flies. I say tough. I love this poem because it does something big, it's an assertion in itself and it's an exposure of consistent, systematic abuse against women. Concisely written, too.
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I love this poem, too. I wish
I love this poem, too. I wish everyone in the world could read it, especially those who would / should see themselves in it. It should be filmed and shown between adverts on TV. And I'd love this to be the next poem of the week. Really well done!
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Hi Jem,
Hi Jem,
If it could have been longer, then I'd consider adding to the poem - I'd definitely want to read it. These things need saying. You've personalised what seems almost to be a zeitgeist - sexual violence and misogyny feel like the spirit of the age. I say this only minutes since viewing photographs of two Indian teenage girls hanging from a mango tree after being gang raped.
Excellent poem.
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