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I feel invisible
Under the male gaze.
It’s an odd thing, to go from being a person of allure
to a mother
to ……imperceptible, ignored.
We equalize female looks with value,
commodify colonialized ideals of attractiveness,
the ground I’m on has disappeared.
Unseen by the Master
does that now make me free?
To be concerned with Be-ing-ness other than simply “pretty”.
Or am I now dangerous,
a hunted woman,
an emblem of other states of existence
Outside his purview, his reign,
A shift of perception:
Tasked to unlearn decades of conditioning
And patriarchal doctrine
To uncover my own Sight
And remove wool from the eyes of others
To see the sacred and numinous,
Soul rather than shell
The hunted, the haunted