Be inconvenient
Brutally honest, outspoken, and fearless. Goes with their gut, never favors appearance. 'Cause who has time for vanity with opponents to extinguish?
And don't you think that hint of silver hairline is distinguished? In men, all these qualities, they make you a genius, but if you're a woman, you're an inconvenience. So he storms through the halls and he tracks down his boss.
Two years in this office he's battled across. A media major, he's craving the glory. Bursts into a meeting, demands better stories.
The newsroom head is delighted, you must know. "Now, that's how you do it. Just show me some gusto."
And four feet away, in department store heels, is his colleague, Sarah. She fights back her tears. 'Cause she chased him down every Friday in winter.
Three years in this office, plus two as an intern. And when she requested some tasks with more substance, he glanced at his phone and responded, disgusted, "Please lower your voice," and "How dare you approach me? Really, your tact could afford you some coaching.
You're acting so crazy." His tone was defeating. "And have some respect.
I'll be late for my meeting. You're being inconvenient." It's 7:00 PM and her husband's arriving. She fires the stove and just stares, though she's trying.
It's been a few days and she's slept on the couch. Depression has stolen the smile from her mouth. He walks in, he's angry, and he asks about dinner.
"But couldn't we just order in?" she considers. He stares with a vacant and displeased expression. "So why do we pay for these therapy sessions if you can't be decent and take a damn shower?
You won't ever me. You're crying for hours. When I first ever met you I loved all your crazy.
You stayed up all night, you dressed like a lady. You like a rabbit. You loved it back then.
But now you're this lump of a mess in my den." He stormed out of the room and she folded his tie. She first bought it for him when his father had died.
He slept in for days and he missed weeks of work, so she took up some supplement shifts as a nurse. She never complained, though. She made it a promise.
But she liked her manic self, too, to be honest. She wished that her crazy was sexy and fun, too, but depression snuck up and she started to undo. Why can't she just man up and act like a wife?
She vowed to this man that she'd serve him for life. She really doesn't mean to be so inconvenient. So let's cut to a woman who's lived out a miracle, made it through life being less than agreeable.
She's running for office, but she battles a bias, so to fix it, she's hired the best team of stylists. They try her in pantsuits and skirts tailored perfect. She stares at the mirror and bleeds through its surface.
"But why do I need to be pretty to be seen? I'm far better qualified and he's just plain mean." "Well, he's loud, and he's toting a hot wife to gloat, so you know that'll earn him the working class vote.
They think that you're old, and the polls all reveal that they won't really like you with no sex appeal. It's not really fair, but it's just how things are done." So she pinches her wrinkling skin in her thumb and thinks, "Isn't this just inconvenient?"
A couple meanders through Sunday brunch tables. They pick up some coffee, inspect the bagels. Somebody approaches in after church service, and immediately our young wife becomes nervous.
She asks if they're planning on having a child. She looks at her feet and her manner grows mild. She's trans, but that's none of your business here, lady.
She doesn't want kids, but the subject of babies, it makes her get anxious. She knows that she's valid, but her belly's not carrying much more than a salad. Her husband, defensive, he rubs on her arms and politely replies, "It's just not in our cards."
The churchgoer's rude and refers to the sermon. "No children? Well, that's just a waste of a woman." She relays the story to friends over wine, and they tell her that not wanting children is fine.
She says, "Well, if you wanted, you could carry your own." But she doesn't know all their stories at home. 'Cause some of them spend their nights cursing their wombs over handfuls of pregnancies ended too soon.
But before they can say they feel inadequate, too, a fight erupts down in the back of the room. A Black woman storms through the bar in her apron. It seems she's in trouble for slapping a patron.
He put both his hands on her backside and squeezed. He said, "White women really don't got 'em like these." Her boss is irate, and he tells her she's let go.
"Why can't you behave, yo? You're acting so ghetto." She tried to defend herself, only to find that a Black woman's anger is never in line.
Aren't all these women just so inconvenient? Ever since the march, I've been asked to write poems, but irony proves to be just ever-growing. I'm asked to address how to be inconvenient, but before I can speak, first they want me to screen it.
They're scared that I'll freak out and do something wild, but censorship really just isn't my style. Some even suggested that they write the speech, but then how can they say that they do what they preach? And with all due respect to these media teams, I don't get on a stage and not say what I mean.
So sorry to Glamour for cursing too often, but I've never really been the type that would soften a message I'm passionate about in my bones. So if you're offended and viewing at home, I'm here to say that I am not sorry for being inconvenient. You were not put on this earth to make everybody else's life easier, so please be inconvenient.
Thank you.
