We are Inevitable

This poem is dedicated
to all women who have ever been silenced.
to Phyllis who has discovered her voice
to Alan surviving the canons of scholarship
and to Susan Griffin for her inspiration

It begins with a quote from a review:
...young ellen bass read a very long,
uncropped, unimaginative, rough draft which
she tried to pass off as a poem, shame on you,
ellen!...
-hugo sloane

I will not be ashamed.
You can call up all your attitudes, but
I will not be ashamed.

In the name of all the women who stopped writing
when their teachers told them they weren't
doing it right
In the name of all women who stopped writing
when their psychiatrists told them they weren't
doing it right
In the name of all the women who stopped writing
when their husbands told them they weren't
doing it right
In the name of all the women who hide their
journals in drawers of ironed blouses rather
than be told they aren't doing it right
In the name of all the women who are washing
dishes or typing reports, pouring coffee or
ringing up sales in K-Mart
because they were told too many times
they weren't doing it right, they should be
ashamed
they should be ashamed to speak
they should be ashamed to think that anything
they had to say was worth anything, might be
worth something to somebody
they should be ashamed, in fact, to think that
they were worth anything

In the name of women who were told, "you write
like a woman"
In the woman who were told, "you write
like a man"
In the name of women who were told, "this is not a
fit subject, not great art"-
Oh women, begins with men raping 12
year old girls and stealing them from each other
The Iliad begins with men stealing each other's
girls
Remember this
Remember this when they tell you your days aren't
lofty enough, are too personal, not universal
Remember this when they tell you you're
sensitive, but not a poet
You're honest, but it's not literature
your themes are too narrow, your style is too
loose
you're too young, you're too old
too pretentious, too meek

My sisters, in the name of all the women who've
come before
the ones who fought and the ones who gave up
the ones who hid and the ones who flaunted
the ones who were ridiculed and the ones who
were ignored
the ones who snuck and lied to learn to read and
write
the ones who pretended they were making
grocery lists or writing thank you notes
the ones who gave up school for their brothers'
education
the ones who left to nurse their babies
the ones who left to work in cigar factories
the ones who killed themselves
the ones who were murdered
and the exceptions

In the name of all women
with the chant of all the silenced women
I say No.

I will not be ashamed.
I call myself poet.
If I don't fit your definition of what that word
should mean
then change the definition
cause it's too late to change me.

Call my work anecdotal, minor, unpolished, uncut,
childish, immature, thin, boring, interminable,
meaningless, written of the top, trivial,
domestic, or anything else
but there are millions of women, just like me,
writing from the everyday truth of their lives,
telling the stories of half the human race
and you can't stop us with your bullying, your
mockery, your money, your newspapers, your
publishing houses, your cheap condescension
you can't stop us with your insults or absolutions,
your laws or expectations, your foundation
grants, governments, or guns.
And though you slowed us down for so many
years that gut aches when I hear a woman
sing out for her sisters-Meg Christian singing
to her lover, and me standing in my living room
just bawling that a woman is singing to her
lover on my stereo, finally, finally, finally-

Man, we've got this far
and I laugh if you still think your dumb review are
gonna stop us now.

We are inevitable.

- Ellen Bass