The commandments of I, Saffiyah Khan

Thou shall not listen to Prince Buster
Or any other man offering kindly advice
In matters of my own conduct
You may call me a feminazi or a femoid
And then see if I give a stinking shit

Pseudointellectuals on the internet
They tell me I’m unhappy because I’m not feminine
Failing to consider that I may be unhappy
Because it’s 3 AM and I’m in the depths of YouTube
Watching them… whining

Thou may catcall me on the street
But thou should take note that I’ll catcall you right back
To tell you that you look pretty sexy too in your joggers
Or your suit, or your new-found look of confusion

Girls should not turn on each other
Or use man-made ideals like pars
Don’t you realize that you’re only making a fool of yourself
When you ask… “Why don’t you wear makeup?”
Is that what it takes to impress a bloke
Whose brain is made up of promises of curvy size zeros
And anti-gravity tits?

Thou shall not tell a girl she deserved it
Because her skirt was too short
She walked home, streets lights illuminating her as a target
But she started it, because she looked at him
And he finished it ’cause he wanted to
And they’ll bring out her skirt as “exhibit A” before the judge

And she should have the right to say
“Thou shall not tell me what to wear
Nor how to wear it”

I shall not be the icing on your cake
And I shall not be the candy on your arm
But I shall be seen
And I will be heard
The commandments of I, Saffiyah Khan

Pseudointellectuals

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