i’m not nice

that’s the first misunderstanding

people expect lace

expect quiet gratitude

expect me to sand myself down

into something decorative

because i’m a woman

and i’m visible

visibility makes people careless

they mistake access for permission

say something nasty to me

and i don’t wilt

i calibrate

i come back

with precision

with vocabulary sharpened on years of erasure

harder

smarter

meaner—

not cruel,

accurate

i have all the words

and i know where to place them

nice is a muzzle

stitched with a smile

handed out early

so no one has to feel uncomfortable

i declined

what you’ll find here

is a spine

is clarity

is a woman who knows the market value of her silence

and chooses speech anyway

i say what i think

because truth doesn’t require permission

so no

you won’t find “nice”

you’ll find brave

the kind that stands its ground

you’ll find kind

the kind that doesn’t lie

and if that throws you off

good

disorientation

is often the first sign

you’ve encountered

a woman

who belongs to herself