sometimes I drown in the guilt
of wanting to take up space for the wrong reasons

to spread my legs and speak loudly
not to defend the legions of women who
paved the way for my freedoms
but to look in the eyes of strangers
and plead without words for them to understand

this isn’t my house

I have taken up residence under false pretences
and eaten the bread of the movement
slept in the beds of soldiers
all the while wishing somebody would discover that
I don’t belong here

I am not your girl friday, boss lady or queen
I am the enemy, the one you love, the one I wish I’d been