All the same
So when he shamelessly stroked the thigh of an unwilling woman,
It was not my thigh but I felt the anger all the same,
When he waited in the shadows like a predator for her to be alone,
It was not I, his prey, but I felt my faith in humanity slaughtered all the same,
When he played with the hem of her skirt maliciously,
It was not I, his toy, but I felt my dignity tainted all the same,
When he held his head high and met the gaze of his victim,
It was not I, the wounded, but I felt the vulnerability and helplessness all the same,
When he scarred her forever,
It was not her alone, it is all of womanhood he violates all the same.
The Kind of Feminist Romance I Want to Read and Write
An anonymous writer explores the romance genre, suggesting literary depctions of women should be subject to feminist critique.
