Not all men

But I was six

When I learned it shouldn’t be this way

As my dad held me in his lap

And I struggled to escape–

Not all men but my friend Kate, was only eight,

When she suffered things I dare not say

But only for the first time

Not all men but at twelve

I was first told I was going to hell

For a too-tight skirt

Cause the boys could not contain themselves

Not all men, but at thirteen

My friend Addie was a mother

And who, pray tell, her baby’s dad?

It was her own step brother.

Not all men will point and leer

But at sixteen, a smack to my rear

Caused the entire room to laugh

And brush it off as, “just granddad”

Not all men but far too many

The obscene pictures that they send me

That I never asked them for

Not all men, but I was called a whore

While I was still saving it for marriage,

Not all men, but all my friends, have stories when we’re in a room,

We comfort each other with soft echoes of “me too–“

We know it isn’t all men

We also don’t know which men

So before you judge us, stop and listen,

Let us show

It’s not all men;

It’s every woman that you know.