I am one of the judges for @teamgirlpowa’s ‘Feminist Fire’ Poetry Contest, and I’m posting this as an example of what an entry might look like.
Photo by Frank Flores on Unsplash
Becoming the Queen
Snow White was anything but
her ashen skin
the color of snow that’s lain on the ground for days too long
grimy with the passing of peasant and lord
eyes hollow
black hair let loose around her face
resting on crimson’d silks
under glass
a sleeping beauty distant and cold
They got the story wrong
you see
the Witch wasn’t jealous
she too wore her ashen skin
the color of snow that’s lain on the ground for days too long
the Witch wasn’t jealous
she was wary
was weary
For she saw Snow White scared
grimy with the passing of peasant and lord
she said
Sister
take of me this apple
wouldn’t you like to be a queen
my fruit is yours to pluck
Sister
take
bite
and never again may they twist you
Sister
and Snow White was fearful
black hair let loose around her face
resting on crimson’d silks
but she reached from her bed into the basket
took the fruit topmost
a serpent twined her arm
as her strong white teeth bit apple flesh
she felt the bite
the apple fell from nerveless fingers
flesh fluttered in stale air
was still
The Witch chanted and waited
watched vigilant over her
for a night and a day
and a night and a day
and a night
and on the third day withdrew
at the sound of metal and saddle leather
some lordling come
to take
from some sleeping beauty
eyes hollow distant and cold
And though Snow White lay still
flesh fluttered in stale air
a serpent twined her arm
and she stirred
as he pressed his lips to her ashen skin
her strong white teeth bit
his prize fell from nerveless fingers
she said
my fruit is yours to pluck
rose from beneath him
and left his body
resting on crimson’d silks
stepped lightly down to her Sister
and Snow White said
wouldn’t you like to be a queen?
Artist’s Statement:
Old fairy tales can be pretty horrifying. This piece draws on a variety of sources, including the Genesis story, Snow White, and Sleeping Beauty. In the Giambattista Basile version of the Snow White tale, a king sexually assaults a sleeping woman and leaves; while still unconscious, the woman gives birth, and later awakes very confused to find herself a new mother. Somewhere along the way, this transformed into a romantic narrative where a beautiful princess is awoken by the kiss of a handsome prince, blah blah, fall in love, happily ever after, etc. The first story, unfortunately, seems more true to life.
I wrote this poem to return some agency to the sleeping woman. As a survivor of sexual assault myself, I have struggled with the fear and anger that my assaults left behind. Many survivors struggle, too, with shame; the idea that we are somehow ‘ruined,’ made impure by our rapist’s actions, pervades popular culture. In my poem, both the witch and Snow White are changed by what was done to them, but they find strength and sisterhood in each other. We are all changed by our experiences; in this case, the two women become warriors—they take their power back, and survive. For me, banding together against rapists is a powerful example of Feminist Fire.
Photo by Marina Khrapova on Unsplash
Thanks for reading!
This poem was originally published in Sun Star Review.
Divider created by javehimself, and used with gratitude.
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