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Ana Monfared

Untouchable

I want to crawl out of my skin prison/back into my mothers womb/ beg her to birth me again/ press restart on the TV show that is my life and pick a different character/ my past is a pair of jeans that don’t fit anymore without hurting myself to get into them/ there is too much history stuck between the cracks that make me up/ not enough water here to paint me pretty/ I cannot think/ I cannot breathe/ I cannot exist without the contradictory perceptions of men drowning my own out


John Berger said,

“Men look at themselves.

Women watch themselves

being looked at.”


My autonomy, glass half full

or half empty

depending on which man

is deciding that day


“Womanhood”

an amalgamation of ideas

passed down

throughout the ages

forced down my throat

only to be punished


when they are not regurgitated as expected.


I can smell rebellion on my fingertips

my chest swells at the taste of ashes

constantly consuming my destruction

as fuel for my rebirth


there is rubble in my liver

internalized misogyny in my ribs

overthinking in my feet


I can’t sit still with myself

self actualization is a fickle game

I always seem to lose


Gender binary

Patriarchy

Male Oppression



they keep coming in first place


But my bloody knuckles and I just want to dance

without being aware of what we look like to everyone in this

room from every direction


My awareness is a protective boyfriend

Who traps me inside myself

He follows me to the shower,

the grocery store, to work, to bed


He is always in bed with me


I practice reclaiming my body every way I know how

only to find everything near me withers at the sight of me


Sometimes when I try to touch myself

I become a question mark instead of a body

Unsolicited opinions instead of a soul


But I am not afraid of filing through dirt

to find my way back home to myself

Patriarchy is a maze I am always getting lost in

but the taste of my authenticity always reminds me

who I am beneath the conditioning


It is dizzying to feel so helpless

and powerful in the same breath


Pleasure is home. Pleasure is not painting yourself pretty it is

painting while screaming, rolling around in the mud

panting

breathless

and shaking

Pleasure is honey thick

belly laughter

that moves like snake


A river, with currents strong

like grief stricken mothers, an ocean with tides

built on the tears of children who grew up in angry homes


My pleasure

the most beautiful blessing I have ever held in

the palms of my two hands



My pleasure,
















La Petite Morte

a chance to be born again

from the soft ashes of self induced

momentary orgasmic death



















 

Anahita Monfared (she/they) is a queer and Iranian Vancouver based actress, dancer and poet! Her poetry explores mental illness, sexual assault/violence, masturbation, healing (and more) through an unapologetic feminist lens.


Featured art by Rue Mader

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