War on femininity 

I started a new job a few months ago. Truth be told it’s a little stuffy in here, could someone crack a window? 

My identity is being challenged again. I am left in clouds of dust screaming,

I am a girl! 

I am!

Though I am in the midst of a mans world attempting to express my ultimate femininity through this ocean of suits and a vivid buzz cut. It’s all blue and grey where I am a beacon of fluorescence. 

I dream of swirling swing dresses, fitted fur coats and gloved hand holding in the snow. I dream of being paraded on your arm where people stop in their laboured tracks to watch the most handsome couple stroll through forest fires unharmed. Jaws lulling open. 

Where a scarf the size of a blanket envelops me and becomes my hat, adds to layers of coats and cardigans. Where I am your little cloaked bird, singing into the deepest reaches of you. Loving you there. 

This battle is one not won easily. This gentleman’s world flecked with misogyny and I am at the mercy of the dollar. 

Smile, speak, be underestimated. 

I bet your wife dressed you this morning. I bet you have no idea how to care for that wool poly blend, ten percent tencel. 

I bet your ties are pre-tied.