History books only detail
His story since the beginning
of time. From Christopher
Columbus to Ronald Reagan,
He is the whole book
while I am merely a footnote,
as if to say, “We didn’t forget you;
we just couldn’t fit you in.”
But you’re right;
I don’t know what it’s like
to be a man.

The Bible only tells of
the Men who saved the world.
From Noah and his ark
to Jesus Christ, himself.
He is the whole religion
while I am only an example
of sin, a reminder of the
dangerous, sexualized
temptress you have made
me out to be. As if to say,
“It doesn’t take two to tango.”
But you’re right;
I don’t know what it’s like
to be a man.

Even language itself
has him in it. From human
to person, He is the whole dictionary.
His outnumbered presence
in a group changes
Las to los;
Elle to il.
All the while, my words
are defined by His existence;
She, Her, Female,
Woman.
As if to say,
“Even your tongue is not
your own—”
Even your tongue is owned.

But you’re right;
I don’t know what it’s like
to be a man.

Our miseducation has been
jaded by the patriarchal point of view.
From birth to death,
I am Anon; He is augmented.
I am Eliot; He is Hemingway.
I am an unmarked grave
while He is a monument.
I am the Other and He is the One;
the center, the norm.

It’s a man’s world and
I’m just assimilating to it.