with each blow he instilled in her the generations of oppression that come with being a woman. she was taught to be silent, to remain composed and docile, to hold back her sorrow and her anger; she was told that her opinions made her less beautiful. after all, how could she possibly fight back when she had come from a Land where newborn baby girls were drowned in wooden buckets and left on the sidewalks to die? every broken bottle and shattered plate left her feet bound and her toes broken so that she was unable to walk without him. his words wrapped around her throat like the body of a boa constrictor, squeezing the life out of his Prey until he was able to feed off of Her like a parasite, consuming all aspects of her identity until his own ego swelled and fattened like that of a ripened fruit ready to fall from the tree. he had claimed and implanted in her Garden his seeds even though she wondered how any kind of life could thrive on such a barren piece of land. that’s Womanhood; having to stomach the shit she did not create.