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aya_hmaida's review
3.0
This book isn't necessarily my cup of tea, and it tackles subjects that I don't correlate with.
But reading this poetry made me very emotional. The feelings and experiences this woman wrote about put me in a state of sadness, almost grieve of what women go through.
But reading this poetry made me very emotional. The feelings and experiences this woman wrote about put me in a state of sadness, almost grieve of what women go through.
tbr_trepidation's review
challenging
dark
emotional
reflective
medium-paced
3.0
I really liked some of the poems, but overall, I didn't connect with this poetry collection--perhaps shown by the fact that I was picking it up and putting it down repeatedly for over a year.
rachelthecrook's review
Not going to rate because I don't think I have the expertise to do so. Personally, it was not my favourite poetry collection, mostly due to the style of poetry and the language that was used (e.g. pop culture references, hashtags, etc). Some powerful content though.
karis_dl's review
fast-paced
2.0
I’ve seen a lot of talk about this poetry collection so I understand that my take on this might be a bit hot, but I didn’t really like it. I think the themes that Róisín touches on are interesting and important, themes like loss, identity, familial relationships, inherited trauma, racism, etc. However, the writing itself was not engaging, exciting, or moving to me. It very much feels like Instagram or tumblr poetry that’s begging to be reposted. Maybe I’m being too harsh but I found the collection to be repetitive and redundant. I understand that the author is working through these concepts but the writing feels stagnant. I did find it interesting to compare how she write about her father with empathy versus how she speaks about her mother with a very complicated tension. But other than that her use of both language and form felt uninspired to me. I think the best thing about this book is that it is physically quite enjoyable —the size, the use of colour on the pages and the ink, as well as the accompanying illustrations throughout. Other than that it’s just not for me.
sunsun886's review
4.0
"Could it be that those who see things more clearly are also those who feel and suffer the most?"-Clarice Lispector
"Mansplain Nation
--
whenever i see you
you explain things to me
taunting- as if you have
the right answer
hidden beneath your
low-hanging fruit
what you know
or don't know
are indistinguishable.
lips pursed,
you question others' sincerity
insincerely, but never your own.
why is that, white man?
'you once told me
that you're not a feminist,
you know?'
using it as a weapon, like
'how would you know
how to be a woman?
you're not even a feminist.'
decontextualizing
what i said,
to inflate
your own wounded ego
what i really said was
i'm not
a white feminist,
there's a difference.
do you know how many times
i've heard a man
declare he's a feminist?
white male privilege
characterizes you,
that perennial smirk.
let me break it to you:
your theoretical understanding
of 'class divide'
reading baudrillard; habermad; graeber
(white man/ white man/ white man)
doesn't make you
any less
of a piece of shit
waiting.
waiting, waiting
to be acknowledged
by you,
as if you hold
my self-esteem
captive
by your own undeserved
hubris.
men only win
because they lie.
they've just gotten used
to the calcified taste
of a society telling them: yes!
mansplain that to me again.
oh, it's so sexy
when you
re-explain things
to me that i already know
or i daresay
just told you
mere seconds ago.
constant nagging,
& when you'd say something
offensive
the defense as always:
'ugh. i'm just joking.'
yes. i see.
one of your
classic
funny jokes."
--
"je ne suis pas folle.
why is it that as women we have to validate our stories?
even to other women, or against other women's petition
against us? we've all drunk the kool-aid. even if we have
no past of histrionics, we find ourselves always on the
defense."
--
"to be allowed to thrive
so many times i've said,
'i just want to be seen.'
my body feels invisible
in this jocular white world
that instructs inequality
by rewarding mediocrity
time and
time and time
again
yet when i am
with two eyes, i am blurred"
--
"Being an immigrant
Is returning to your roots
Only to realize
You never left.
Only to realize
You can never escape.
Only to realize
It was the best version of you
All along."
--
"Unlearning
-
I want to be strong enough to
not talk shit. To love without
jealousy, or ownership. Not prove
the badness
in someone else, another femme,
as if that enhances
my own virtuosity, goodness,
pallid. I want to
be strong enough to not listen
blindly
to the things people tell me
about other women. As if it's fact,
not opinion. I want to be strong
enough to decide on
my own. I don't want it to be too late
to learn the dark mysteries, of
another's soul. Being so ego driven
that I never give them
a reason to be messy. I'm no
woman's keeper, why do
I sometimes pretend that I am?
I want to love women, give them
what I was never given,
a space to grow, and morph
without the cruel gaze of our
society. "
--
"when i am sad,
it's for the both of us,
the life you couldn't lead,
and the one i'm struggling
for, still."
--
"eyes, my nose, the blood, steady -
a mark. bristling with the terror of my aliveness.
being alive is so frightening, and i'm embarrassed that
people might dislike me for things i never knew i did.
but what i don't understand
is this: why we hate others' complexities
but expect to be seen in our own.
why we expect love but can't give it?
need care but hate to offer it?
i'm tired of overextending myself
like a trapeze artist, trapped in a
gymnasium of self-loathing.
apologizing for every little thing
people demanding things from me
like i'm the sun. burning me,
(like icarus too close)
when i can't perform my tasks,
those burdened on me,
through the lies of loyalty and 'friendship.'
that's when i hang my head low and say
finally: this is too much, now "
"Mansplain Nation
--
whenever i see you
you explain things to me
taunting- as if you have
the right answer
hidden beneath your
low-hanging fruit
what you know
or don't know
are indistinguishable.
lips pursed,
you question others' sincerity
insincerely, but never your own.
why is that, white man?
'you once told me
that you're not a feminist,
you know?'
using it as a weapon, like
'how would you know
how to be a woman?
you're not even a feminist.'
decontextualizing
what i said,
to inflate
your own wounded ego
what i really said was
i'm not
a white feminist,
there's a difference.
do you know how many times
i've heard a man
declare he's a feminist?
white male privilege
characterizes you,
that perennial smirk.
let me break it to you:
your theoretical understanding
of 'class divide'
reading baudrillard; habermad; graeber
(white man/ white man/ white man)
doesn't make you
any less
of a piece of shit
waiting.
waiting, waiting
to be acknowledged
by you,
as if you hold
my self-esteem
captive
by your own undeserved
hubris.
men only win
because they lie.
they've just gotten used
to the calcified taste
of a society telling them: yes!
mansplain that to me again.
oh, it's so sexy
when you
re-explain things
to me that i already know
or i daresay
just told you
mere seconds ago.
constant nagging,
& when you'd say something
offensive
the defense as always:
'ugh. i'm just joking.'
yes. i see.
one of your
classic
funny jokes."
--
"je ne suis pas folle.
why is it that as women we have to validate our stories?
even to other women, or against other women's petition
against us? we've all drunk the kool-aid. even if we have
no past of histrionics, we find ourselves always on the
defense."
--
"to be allowed to thrive
so many times i've said,
'i just want to be seen.'
my body feels invisible
in this jocular white world
that instructs inequality
by rewarding mediocrity
time and
time and time
again
yet when i am
with two eyes, i am blurred"
--
"Being an immigrant
Is returning to your roots
Only to realize
You never left.
Only to realize
You can never escape.
Only to realize
It was the best version of you
All along."
--
"Unlearning
-
I want to be strong enough to
not talk shit. To love without
jealousy, or ownership. Not prove
the badness
in someone else, another femme,
as if that enhances
my own virtuosity, goodness,
pallid. I want to
be strong enough to not listen
blindly
to the things people tell me
about other women. As if it's fact,
not opinion. I want to be strong
enough to decide on
my own. I don't want it to be too late
to learn the dark mysteries, of
another's soul. Being so ego driven
that I never give them
a reason to be messy. I'm no
woman's keeper, why do
I sometimes pretend that I am?
I want to love women, give them
what I was never given,
a space to grow, and morph
without the cruel gaze of our
society. "
--
"when i am sad,
it's for the both of us,
the life you couldn't lead,
and the one i'm struggling
for, still."
--
"eyes, my nose, the blood, steady -
a mark. bristling with the terror of my aliveness.
being alive is so frightening, and i'm embarrassed that
people might dislike me for things i never knew i did.
but what i don't understand
is this: why we hate others' complexities
but expect to be seen in our own.
why we expect love but can't give it?
need care but hate to offer it?
i'm tired of overextending myself
like a trapeze artist, trapped in a
gymnasium of self-loathing.
apologizing for every little thing
people demanding things from me
like i'm the sun. burning me,
(like icarus too close)
when i can't perform my tasks,
those burdened on me,
through the lies of loyalty and 'friendship.'
that's when i hang my head low and say
finally: this is too much, now "