You Don't Know Me featuring Sruthi Hariharan

So is that why you think you’re allowed an opinion. On what I wear. On what I do with my body. My face, my hair, my waistline, my uterus, my career. And the order of the last two in the list of my priorities. 

Wait, I’m confused. Do you pay my rent? No?
Then I fail to see how my business is your business. 

Why you think you’re entitled to an opinion on my opinions. Or on my right to have one. 

Is it because you think you know me? Because like a male god once fashioned you out of mud and dust, you’ve fashioned me from similarly basic raw materials like your limited, chauvinist imagination and cultural narratives of an ideal woman. A virtuous woman. A woman with a mouth in the shape of a permanent “yes” to all you consider your prerogative. 

Is that why you get so mad when I prove to, <dramatic gasp> be ME. 

All because you thought you knew me!