For all of the women who were brave enough to share their story and were met with responses such as, “It’s a grey area.”
What about consent seems grey to you?
What about the length of my skirt or the dip of my shirt says yes to you?
How does the appearance of my skin come across as an invitation?
What if, what if, what if, the way I dress has nothing to do with men?
Maybe I’m hot, maybe I’m cold, maybe I just want to appear bold
Whatever the reason, whatever you see, keep in mind, it is only for me
What about my firm refusal seems malleable to you?
When I say no, you treat my words like play-doh
Molding my stop into go
Shaping my cries into sighs
The original color becomes lost in what you want me to say
And maybe that’s how you begin to see grey
Why do I need to make qualifying statements?
I don’t mean to be rude, I’m just not in the mood
How does a simple no not make sense?
In our discomfort and denial, we are told to be nice
In the face of something so vile, a simple no should suffice
The grey you see is from a storm you’ve created
In fear of being emasculated, you forced me to be dominated
What takes more of a toll?
The humiliation of a man or the assassination of a soul?
You call me a man hater
But when you neglect consent
You are a life taker
No more questions, I’ll try to make it simple
Imagine, just imagine, someone held you down
Your words, your body, your mind drowned
Hear yourself saying the word no
And watch as their insistence grows
Fight, flight, or freeze
All you’re left with is these
While his body enters you like a disease
Now imagine, just imagine
Your whole world turns black
While the noise around you turns white
And the memory of this moment will never go away
Tell me, please tell me, what about that is grey?