Womanhood Poem by Cherie Mort

''Push! , '' the women tell me
I clench my teeth together, shut my eyes, and do as they command
My stomach and arms hurt, and I don't like the pain
I softly groan as I push as hard as I can

This table is heavy
We stand at either end, trying to push the table together
A leaf has been added to make the table longer, but it is a stubborn piece of wood to push in

Gritting my teeth, I wonder where the men are to help make our burden a little lighter
They have run away, slunk off to other parts of the house, diligently shirking off other chores

I wonder to myself for just a moment,

''Is this all that this is?
Just the women doing the heavy-lifting while the men stand by and watch? ''

The men don't help with the chores
They don't do the cooking
They don't clean their rooms
Or do their laundry
I have been told before, when doing some small deed to help out, that I am too slow at my task
I sigh and grumble, but am too tired to argue with women built like stone walls

This is not the only charge against me

The patriarch of my family, my formidable grandfather, is old-fashioned to say the least
He does not condone hair-dyeing, nail polish, or makeup, but rather raises his voice even louder to insult us and our waistlines

Yet in that one moment, as I pushed against a wooden lacquered table, I wondered,

''Is this all that I face in womanhood? ''