How dare you speak up?
Say your name?
You are voiceless.

You are a woman, a mother, my wife.
Everyone knows who wears the pants under this roof.
You have no value except this house, the stove, the bed.

If you want to speak, ask my permission.
If you want to sing, ask me first.
If you cook my dinner, do it right.
Don’t make me ask again.

The truth is you don’t matter.
Your voice is weak, pathetic.
You listen to me.
Make my tea.
Is supper ready?
Where’s my clean shirt?

Truth.
“In the hamper.”
“No, it’s not.”
“No, I won’t.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Yes, I matter.”
“I’ve found a job.”
“I will not run from you.”
“It’s you who do not matter.”
“I will walk.”
“I have found my voice.”
“I matter.”