I Listen
By Shriya Roy
I listen as the young girl asks her mother
Sitting on the park bench, I hear the words she utters
Her questions like rain, coming in slowly, then all together
She wonders if there were important women in science
As for every ten conversations praising knowledgeable men
She sees women receive nothing but silence
I listen even when her mother simply stares at the ground
She feels the storm brewing, her smile drops into a frown
The girl, hungry for answers, knows to sit down
After the clearing of a throat, the awaited explanation comes
There were many women, yet the world remembers almost none
It pours as history’s flood of injustice burgeons
I listen to their talk of the Matilda Effect
Its consequence, the lack of acknowledgement
A mangled tapestry of past female intellect
Flame within me becomes a fire and the mild drizzle turns to hail
They discredit, defy, always deny her, seize her success when he fails
I find accompaniment in my ire, the child’s fury shakes even her pigtails
I listen while she learns their titles and stories
Scientists whose trials and tribulations went without the glory
The unseen blood, sweat, and tears- an allegory
Figures who made an imprint with defiance
Left as a hidden portrait of societal deviance
Vast examples of complaisant noncompliance
I listen and the two rise to stand
The girl says she cannot understand
It should not make a difference, being a man
Starting to walk away, her mother speaks about mistakes
Though society’s slowly weathering structure is hard to break
There is always change that we can make
I’ve listened.
Sitting on the park bench, I hear the words she utters
Her questions like rain, coming in slowly, then all together
She wonders if there were important women in science
As for every ten conversations praising knowledgeable men
She sees women receive nothing but silence
I listen even when her mother simply stares at the ground
She feels the storm brewing, her smile drops into a frown
The girl, hungry for answers, knows to sit down
After the clearing of a throat, the awaited explanation comes
There were many women, yet the world remembers almost none
It pours as history’s flood of injustice burgeons
I listen to their talk of the Matilda Effect
Its consequence, the lack of acknowledgement
A mangled tapestry of past female intellect
Flame within me becomes a fire and the mild drizzle turns to hail
They discredit, defy, always deny her, seize her success when he fails
I find accompaniment in my ire, the child’s fury shakes even her pigtails
I listen while she learns their titles and stories
Scientists whose trials and tribulations went without the glory
The unseen blood, sweat, and tears- an allegory
Figures who made an imprint with defiance
Left as a hidden portrait of societal deviance
Vast examples of complaisant noncompliance
I listen and the two rise to stand
The girl says she cannot understand
It should not make a difference, being a man
Starting to walk away, her mother speaks about mistakes
Though society’s slowly weathering structure is hard to break
There is always change that we can make
I’ve listened.