Jan 5, 2015
Wombynhood
I have calloused hands. Rough hands. The hands that have worked in fields. The hands that have fought— Fought men, Fought for independence, Fought to live. Hands that were never covered in the white gloves of femininity. Hands that have sown, reaped, and healed, To then be slapped away when begging for respect. I have inherited these hands— from my mother’s, mother’s, mother’s, mother’s, mother’s, mother’s, mother’s, mother’s, mother’s, mother— These hands have been holding up the world.
-Fatima Nasiyr
