Tattoos are forbidden by their god
Their god who is them
Your body will not enter heaven
The body cannot be a canvas
Skin cannot be art
It has to carry its wounds
Visible, scarred, shamed
Violated with no chance
Of empowerment
The bodies are a cradle of shame
The inherent female guilt
Your yellow dress
Your thigh flower tattoo
Hiding a past of unwanted fingers
Nails. Gnawing at your insides
No, also at your exposed skin
The unexposed too
You are shame… they say
Your tattoos and dress are not art
You are guilty of art, of beauty,
Of being born
You.
A woman.
An object of sin
A site for battlefield
Condemned to a lifetime with your oppressor
Who is your oppressor?
Welcome to the rest of your life.
Too bleak?
Maybe you found your voice
Which unlike Ariel, you never gave for a man
You were robbed of it by centuries of silence
By your ancestor’s rape
Your grandma’s pain
Your mother’s tears
Complicity.
She is you. They are all you.
You are her. You are all of them.
Revolt. Speak up. Don’t smile
A Pharaoh is only one because of you
A woman.
Rise. Rage. Rebel
Against a world that feasts upon your body
And condemns it shameful.