A Karen’s Rage
I am the sum of my parts and every part of me is angry,
A bitter middle-aged white woman cliche I grow more radical with (r)age.
My name’s not Karen and I don’t want to speak to your manager, but I do wanna speak to whoever’s in charge.
Let’s talk about how my humanity is in question as the supreme court rules whether I and my fellow LGBTQ+ community can be fired for being ourselves;
Meanwhile, my fellow women are still being paid less even if we get to keep the job we have.
Let’s talk about the alarming rate at which native women and trans women are being murdered or the fact that every woman is afraid the next man she turns down is gonna be the last man she sees.
Let’s talk about the brown women being ripped from their babies when the shimmering oasis of the American dream in the desert turns out to be a mirage.
Let’s talk about black women and the microaggressions they face daily.
Kim K wears your hairstyles and she’s trendy but you wear it and you’re unprofessional, your culture is mass consumed and yet dismissed as “ghetto” by the masses. I see you black girl in all your glory struggling to fix the crown on your head when your arms are still tied down by the chains of centuries of systemic racism because the only black America values is oil.
Let’s talk about the constant wars waged in its name and the pipelines that threaten our water.
Let’s talk about a warming planet that is dying in the name of profits spelled with an f but worshiped as if they were prophets with a ph.
Let’s talk about how the profits of my labor never seem to reach me and how my struggle with poverty will only end when I’m dead.
Let’s talk about corporate crimes and crimes against humanity with at least as much concern and outrage as we do so-called “black on black” crime or “inner-city crime”.
Let’s talk about this rage that’s building inside threatening to boil over.
Because I’m an angry middle-aged white woman, and I wanna speak to whoever’s in charge.