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Do I intimidate you? With the way I wear my skin  Do you fear the way I stand?  Because I don't let my insecurities win   Can you handle the way I walk  like I've got red carpet beneath every step
Do I intimidate you? With the way I wear my skin  Do you fear the way I stand?  Because I don't let my insecurities win   Can you handle the way I walk  like I've got red carpet beneath every step
Medusa wasn’t always a viper. Medusa was approachable, likeable, and even flirtatious. Everyone noticed her golden-brown locks when she walked to her cubicle. Sauntering. Swaying. Doing her thing.
they say that Medusa was the villain. wrong and evil, a force against nature, and yet all at once a victim of her own malfeasance. and yet, in "re-writing" a myth, we bring to light
no means no  telling you to get off and pulling away means no not now means no i dont want to means no i dont feel like it means no i want to go home means no leave me alone means no
I don’t know how to write about you and tell the truth.   Bare bones, hands shaking, nothing left to do but fill the page. I don’t think I’m at that stage.  
I hear a woman crying pitfully  a man bellowing  we are not all like that   it's not about  you, personally, sir just our individual violations   show me one
Speak Up, Speak Out silence is emptiness emptiness left by our own inaction inaction leads to no where Speak Up, Speak Out nothing said is nothing done why wait years Speak Up, Speak Out
It Is My Fault I’m not supposed to fear men. I shouldn’t be wearing black lacy underwear, it is my fault. I can’t powder my nose with too much makeup, it is my fault.
S e l f  d o u b t  d r i v e s  h u m a n i t y  t o  i r r a t i o n a l  b e h a v i o r.  
It’s supposed to be a fun night Dancing with friends Hitting on strangers Having a little too much to drink
To Harry,   I hate you. You do not know me, nor I, you. But I hate you. You hurt one of the most important people in my life. To Harry.
We haven’t much to call our own. Not our eyes or our hair, or our X chromosome. Not our face or our fare, or the places we roam.
#MeToo for every time her hair wrapped my fingers, and her body hugged the cold rim of the toilet, because you decided she wasn’t drunk enough.   #MeToo, for all the accidental grazes,
You like it when he calls you baby that his attention is all on you You like that he kisses your forehead and rubs the back of your hand with his thumb He always asks how your day went
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