Dirty Dishes and Feminism

by Shazia Ali


My teenage daughter will not wash those dishes

Piled up in the sink, or put the laundry away.

You see this week she became a feminist

And woe to her should she demean herself

To do the tasks that must not be determined

By gender, social norms, or by her mom.

She argues that she would not marry

Or look to a man to open those doors

That may be a little harder to push.

Oh no! She is a feminist, who will push

Those stubborn doors and shatter

Those shiny, pretty glass ceilings.

But then she cannot resist twisting and twirling

And admiring her trendy new heels

Reflected in those shiny glass ceilings.

She will smile coyly and blush prettily

When a door is opened for her

By that young man who lives across the street.

And when all the coffee mugs are in the sink

Stained and dirty, piling up to the top,

She will roll up her sleeves and wash

Those dirty mugs because it must be done.

Grumbling and pouting, she claims feminism

But she has yet to learn what it really means.

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