Ode to My Bitch Face
Does everyone know what this term ‘resting bitch face’ is? It’s a term coined by someone who is just generally unhappy with the fact that women aren’t smiling literally all the time. You’re like sleeping and he’s like “You have a bitch face.” And you’re like “I mean I’m literally taking a nap. So, I’m sorry. I don’t know? ” I’ve been doing this thing lately where I write odes to things I think I’m supposed to be ashamed of, which is largely how shame works. We think we’re supposed to feel it. We’re told we’re supposed to feel it. About the way we live and act and walk and speak and dress and are. We feel it because someone told us to. It’s not an organic feeling. I’ve been writing odes to things like that to counteract that feeling.
This is an ode to my bitch face.
You pink armour lipstick rebel steel cheek slit mouth head to the ground mean girl. You headphones in but no music. You house key turned blade. You quick step between street lights, strainer of pricks and chest beaters, laughter is a foreign language to your dry ice tongue.
Resting bitch face, they call you. But there is nothing restful about you, no. Lips like a flat-lined heartbeat, panic at the sight of you, scream for their mothers, throat full of bees, head spun 360 exorcist bitch.
Just trying to buy a soda. Just trying to do your laundry. Just trying to dance at the party. And then someone asks you to smile and the blood begins to riot. Smile and you chisel away at your own jaw. Smile and you unleash the swarm into the mouth of the man who wants to swallow you whole.
One theory is that you were born like this, but I don’t believe it. You came out screaming and alive and look at you now. Look at how you’ve learned to hide your teeth. What’s wrong with your face, bitch? Your face, bitch, what’s wrong with it? Bitch face, I don’t blame you for taking the iron pipe from their hands and branding yourself with it. For making a flag out of your body bag.
Another theory is that you put it on every morning. Screw it tight like a jar of jelly. But I don’t believe that either. You woke up like this and have been for years. How can you sleep pretty when there are four locks on the door and the fire escape feels like break-in bait. They will tell you home is safe zone.
No. Bitch face is safe zone. Bitch face is home. Bitch face is cutting off the ladder, willing to burn in the apartment if it means he can’t get in.
Olivia Gatwood