Hey Time Magazine: Are you MAN Enough?

Hey Time Magazine. Are you man enough?

Are you man enough to take it?

Can you take my motherhood?

Can you take my breastfeeding and baby-wearing and co-sleeping?

Can you take my bottle-feeding and strollers and cribs?

Can you comprehend my ambiguity?

Can you fathom my depths...

Can you breathe under the weight of my power?

As I dodge your attacks like a milky stealth fighter - as I stride along the battleground with cracked heels and giant breasts and a mouth whispering fuck you, and goodnight moon.

Are you man enough to know you have no place here?

Are you man enough to step aside?

You and your misogyny mean nothing to me. You and your sensationalism, your breastfeeder-gone-pedophile assault,  your  airstrike against us: mothers, all mothers, as you fuel fires history started, fires that yearn to separate, diminish, annihilate.

Your violence is a buzz in my ear, a chuckle rolling off my tongue, a speck of dust in my eye, as I kiss the feet of the child I birthed in a tub in my living room.

or under the knife of a sterile room.

or on a bed in a hospital with an epidural.

and dignity.

Are you man enough?

I know what you're doing. I get it. You light these fires to burn these women. These women you can't control. These women who baffle you. These women who raise your children and fight your wars, pay your mortgage, lead your country and make you squirm.

Squirm.

It's intimidating, isn't it? These women.

You think if you divide us you'll destroy us.

Ah, but you won't.

We've taken it all already. Taken it all. Through immigration and migration and slavery and the suburbs. Through sickness through alcoholism through death. Through oppression and suppression and depression. Through beating. Through black. Through light. Through loss. Through all.

We are mothers.

Are you man enough to take it?

All of us?

You fear what you cannot understand. Cannot restrain.

Are you man enough to step aside?

Out of this sphere. Out of this warmth - this red, this raging burn of love and hips and hands and milk - infinite chains of women you've never known. And will never know.

But I do.

We're all here. All of us. Every form. Right here.

With nothin' to prove.

Are you man enough to see it?

Are you man enough to let it go?

Because I can promise you one thing,

WE

are

mom

enough.

In our sleep, in our bones, in our weakness and in our strength - our many hues of the same undying strength - we've always been enough.

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