To the boy who’s considered my equal
When I was 5, you told me I threw like a girl
Like my gender was an insult
Meant to make me feel as though I was beneath you
Because my reproductive system was different to yours
When I was 7 I was told that you were mean to me
Because you liked me
That nothing would be done to stop it
Because boys will be boys
But if I did the exact same thing as you I was punished
Told I was rude and unladylike
That the only thing that made me special
Was how closely I was to “perfect”
When I was 10 they told me about sex
That it was only used to conceive
That my body was built for childbirth
And my purpose to reproduce
But if I didn’t want that
That I had no use
When I was 12 I started to bleed
But they told me I couldn’t talk about it
Because it would make you uncomfortable
And your comfort was more important than mine
Because while I bled and cried because of the pain
I was told I was too emotional and therefore inferior to you
When I was 13 they told me I couldn’t wear skirts
Because it would distract you
And you couldn’t possibly control yourself
So while you lapped up knowledge in our classroom
All comfortable and focused
I sweated, cloth covering every aspect of me
Because it was my responsibility
To keep your eyes off my body
When I was 14 they told me to change
Because boys wouldn’t want me if I stayed the same
They told me to make more of an effort, to be slimmer
Eat less, wear makeup and nice clothes
To try as hard as possible to become this unattainable picture of beauty
For you
They told me to smile and look pretty when you were around
To give you my whole undivided attention
But never expect the same in return
Because you had a future to work for
And apparently I didn’t
When I was 15 they told me that if you touched me
When I didn’t want you to that I was frigid
They asked what I was wearing, what I said
Whether I was drunk, whether I was asking for it
And when I explained what happened
They looked me in my desperate eyes, yearning for help
And they told me not to do anything
Because this would ruin your future
As if it hadn’t already ruined me
Now I’m 16 and they have the audacity
To tell me I’m equal to you
That I don’t need this so called feminism I’ve found
That I don’t need the only thing that’s shown me my real worth
That was there for me when I was so hurt and betrayed by them
That I don’t need feminism because sexism doesn’t exist anymore
And most importantly I don’t need feminism
Because boys won’t ever want to be with a feminist
The future I want is one where
I’m not already born disadvantaged
One where the system isn’t stacked against me
One where people will listen to me as their equal
One where saying no won’t potentially get me killed
The future I want is one where I am his equal
Through and through with no conditions
***
This was a poem that knew exactly what it wanted to say – focussed, intelligent and passionate.” Kerry Hudson, Orwell Youth Prize Judge
What a tough, and in the real Orwell way – uncomfortable poem. It is sharp and beady and comes with a distinct voice. Yet it identifies the contradictions and double-binds that girls and young women have to navigate still. It is impressively controlled and that tightness of form nevertheless gives a shape to a pent up energy and calculating intelligence. A very accomplished piece of work expressing real analytic and emotional ability.” Jean Seaton, Director of the Orwell Foundation
‘To the boy who’s considered my equal’ is a junior Orwell Youth Prize 2020 winner, responding to the theme ‘The Future We Want’.