Tag Archives: Feminism

YES! International Womyn’s Day Showcase


YES! Wimmin artists sharing the stage for a talent throw-down in Kitchener-Waterloo, Ontario! What better way to celebrate International Womyn’s Day than with some music and spoken word poetry? Please come out and join us for an evening that will warm you, thrill you, delight you, and fill you with love.

YES poster

Sunday, March 8th, 2015
The Boathouse
Tickets: $10 – $20 (sliding scale)

Facebook Event Page: YES! International Womyn’s Day Showcase


When Wimmin Speak


When men speak,
The posters display clinking cognac-filled glasses
And artfully displayed cigars.
Men have faces and names.
They are given s  o  m  u  c  h  r  o  o  m.
They are encouraged to take up space,
Take up the stage,
Take up the page.

The mic isn’t so much a tool for voice amplification
As it is as a tool of dick extension.
When men speak,
Words have to bigger, harder, and uncut.
Men’s poetry has to be engorged, swollen,
Every line has to be hammered, screwed, nailed, and pounded,
Because men aren’t just building a poem;
They are building a club house
Where no girls are allowed –
Unless we’re prepared to be hammered, screwed, nailed, and pounded.
And Girlfriend, you better be grateful to be his handyman’s project,
Because after he’s drilled you,
After he’s sanded off your rough edges,
After he’s left you coated with a thick layer of his varnish on your face and breasts,
He’s going to show you off like you are his accomplishment…
…After all, he “made ” you.

When wimmin speak,
The posters display sexy stiletto boots
Held in bondage by a microphone cord.
Wimmin don’t have faces and names.
They aren’t given anyroomatall.
In fact, they are tied up just to be made smaller:
Reduced to footwear,
Reduced to fetish wear,
Reduced to impractical and fanciful objects.

The mic isn’t a tool for voice amplification –
It’s a tool for choking us into silence.
When wimmin speak,
Words have to be soft, warm, and pink.
Wimmin’s poetry has to be accommodating;
Every line has to be a sheath, a scabbard, a pocket, a slit
Because wimmin aren’t just building a poem,
We are building a receptacle for men to slide into,
A safe place for our “allies” to store their daggers
As they self-congratulate and stick themselves into our sheaths, scabbards, pockets, and slits.
And Girlfriend, if you think he would hesitate before stabbing you with his dagger –
The one in his hands,
The one in his pants,
The metaphorical one that he plugs into an amp before he spits verses…
Well, I hope you get home safely tonight.

 So, Sister, if you choose to speak,
And he’s staring at you, wondering when you are going to deep throat the mic,
Don’t wrap the cord around your feet like he suggests.
Let it dangle like a tampon string between your legs,
And turn acoustic misogyny into electric empowerment.
Come at him with static.
Come at him with feedback.
Come at him with hissing and popping.
Come at him with the furious crackling of sound unchecked.

 Use that mic as your torch.
Use that mic as your pepper spray.
Use that mic as your vibrator and get yourself off.
Because, Girlfriend, he may have given you the stage,
But this is your party,
And you don’t need his permission to “come”.

 womyn with mic

Royalty free? Way to be!

Creative Commons License
This work, “When Wimmin Speak” by Beth Murch, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.