Magenta Wise is this week's guest writer. She's kindly given us permission to use this powerful poem. Here's what she told us about it: 'This poem came about when I was writing a book of short stories, one of which is called I’m Invisible. It’s about a woman who, throughout her life, was never noticed because she was not attractive, yet she had a great talent. This, of course, is one of the ways the patriarchy treats women: we are judged by our sexual attractiveness to men, but oppressed and blocked from reaching our true individual greatness. Once we "lose our looks" we are disregarded, by men who no longer desire us, and even by younger women who no longer see us as a threat. When women do create great things, their achievements have frequently been stolen by men or ignored altogether. This theme led me to express these thoughts in a poem about the invisibilities of women in society. I have read it out at poetry gatherings, and it’s amazing how many women say they’ve heard it before, even though they haven’t. “That’s about me, it’s my story,” they say. It could resonate as almost every woman’s story, I think. It’s time we rose up: the world needs the input of women if we are to create a fairer and happier society, based on cooperation rather than competition. We are needed now more than ever. It’s time to shout our truths, to show who we are, to come together and sing our soul songs, that they may they be heard, that they may heal, that we may be seen and no longer be invisible.'
Have you seen the Invisible Woman?
You might catch glimpses of her peeping
through art galleries, creeping behind
the crowd of artworks done by men. Then
here and there you can catch sight of her,
the light of her, until she sinks once more
into token representations. Her creations
in the past may last, but she herself has
tarnished, vanished behind many
a man’s signature.
Have you seen the Invisible Woman?
Have you heard her music, composed,
transposed, morose now, played by a
man’s name, the notes of her being drowned
by a cacophony of false identities,
enemies singing from oppression’s
song sheet. Her Siren’s wail, her chants,
her symphonies of meaning lying forgotten
under the famous. She chants her mysteries
to ears deafened by explosions of war
and pain and anger.
Have you seen the Invisible Woman?
Have you read her wise words, she of the first
autobiography, the first novel, now a fossil,
dreaming lots and scheming, her plots, her poetry
ancient, silently recited in the desolation of
stone circles, languishing in the dust, no longer
published, her stories, her nouns and verbs,
Her literature bound in a ligature of the choked,
yet still reciting her tales, biting through the gag.
Have you seen the Invisible Woman?
Open a newspaper, is she in there? Very little
but a report of her murder, plunder or rape.
Oh wait, there she is, decoration, naked breasts
displayed for his pleasure, to enjoy at his leisure,
boobs and a hand or string over her pubes,
pictured next to fully clad men doing important
things like running the world, shunning the world,
conning the world. Cunning clay kings.
Have you seen the Invisible Woman?
You’ll see bits of her from scaffolding, building sites,
cat calls from ugly dogs, what a sight, whoa, great tits,
look at that arse, don’t pass, I could give her one,
hey beautiful look at me, fuck you then you whore,
you slag. She walks in space men call their own,
turns her face, not safe, no place for her, so smile,
it may never happen, it has just happened, it happens
everyday in fearful ways. The night is dangerous,
don’t walk alone, stay at home.
Have you seen the Invisible Woman?
Rape culture, victim blaming, slut shaming, wearing
the wrong clothes, drunk, teasing, not pleasing when
she says no, short skirts, long skirts, trousers, burkas,
dresses, medical dressings, children, old women,
sinning for being female, not about sex, it’s power over.
Even when sober she is accused, responsible for the
aggressor’s pride, she tries to hide as they hide
behind lies and mad eyes that see an object
and fail to respect her.
Have you seen the Invisible Woman?
We spot a sprinkling of her in parliaments,
But she may not last long, her hair will be wrong,
Her dress sense called into question, a session
devoted to her shoes and the pitch of her voice.
Assassinations of character or shot by bullets,
She is little seen in politics although recently,
increasingly she stands, so catch her while you can,
promote her, vote for her, remember suffrage.
Have you seen the Invisible Woman?
She’ll keep running and jumping and throwing
and be the best in the world and enjoy temporary
praise, and they raise her, cheer and count
her medals but it’s clear they don’t count
her opinions, rape-threatened for speaking
against sadists, told to shut her mouth or else.
Otherwise she goes unsportily unreported
on the sports pages, paid little, no interest,
it’s only women after all, chasing a ball,
no one cares.
Have you seen the Invisible Woman?
Where is her credit, due for her brilliant inventions,
in your computer right now, the intentions to steal
her work, in the sciences, in medicine, engineering
and design, disappearing, in psychology, in every field
plus cooking, cleaning, shopping, washing,
childbearing, caring, a servant and a grow bag,
always working, earning less, cracked red hands,
no equality, her human rights neglected,
but bright, young and blonde on television.
Have you seen the Invisible Woman?
She is cloaked in age, grey and lined,
maligned, ignored and bored with ignorance,
wrinkles of wisdom of no seeming worth on earth,
no longer ripe for sex or breeding, too tired
to be a housework prostitute, a good-for-nothing
hag. Her years of experience pouring into
incontinence, shrivelled and fading,
a walking corpse, courage in her bent spine,
despair in her heart.
Have you seen the Invisible Woman?
Amidst the carnage, bandaged as she is,
eyes blood red, masked behind blue, purple,
black bruises, limping and weeping, I seek her,
bid her come forward, onward, to wear her
bright colours and be seen, to sing her music,
loud, proud, insistent, making its way into
closed ears, to push her way, be visible,
let her views be news, let her run swiftly
round the arena, waving her victories aloft,
reclaiming her activity, her creativity.
How much we owe to her yet do not know her.
I see her, I’d free her, I recognise her achievements
and bow to her, adore her, beg for more from her,
and tell her how very much she is needed with all her
findings, to remove her bindings and cast them windward,
to rise in all her glory to scream her story.
She has always been here, near, creating, waking,
making, aching, baking, quaking, shaking,
but not breaking.
Now do you see the Invisible Woman?
Biographical Note
Magenta lives near Brighton, England and has had several careers and interests, including psychic skills, teaching healing, Tarot reading and related subjects. She has been a web designer, video producer and active in the performing arts with One-Woman shows. She has published three books, one of short stories, one of poems and one on evolving human consciousness. She is also an artist, committed vegetarian, ecologist and Feminist.Website www.magentawise.com
Books: Short Stories, ‘Kill and Cure’
Poems: ‘Messages are Dancing in the Rain' mybook.to/MessagesareDancingintheRain
‘Live From Your Centre’ - mybook.to/LiveFromYourCentre
