I have never experienced gender discrimination
by Anna Golubkova
translated by Anna Halberstadt
* * *
I have never experienced gender discrimination
she thought getting up at six a.m.
without setting up her alarm clock
organizing a mound of underwear on her table
to be ironed
what kind of word is this
what an idiotic concept
she was thinking at six forty-five
starting to prepare breakfast
how can one even differentiate people
based on gender
people are so different
she continued thinking at seven forty-five
getting her kids ready for school
and hanging on a hanger her husband’s
well ironed shirt
she continued thinking of gender discrimination
standing by the sink and washing the dishes
left from breakfast
she continued thinking of gender discrimination
putting her makeup on
in a quick experienced manner
putting on transparent pantyhose
a tight
difficult to wear skirt
high heels
she was still thinking
squeezing into a crowded bus
and taking a position with her back to the wall
so that no one could grab her ass
and covering herself from the front
with a heavy briefcase
to protect herself from
the passengers trying
to get too close to her
with their sweaty morning bodies
and then
when behind the window
one could see the usual grey cityscapes
flashing by
and people around her relaxed
in some kind of sleepy lethargy
she finally came to a conclusion
that she had never
in her entire life
had encountered (and the word itself is so funny)
and couldn’t have
any of this gender discrimination
* * *
As I was passing through the Bolshoi Stone bridge
to my surprise, I felt so alive.
There was only the sky around me,
plenty of sky, much more, than a regular average
person would need.
I walked through the Bolshoi Stone bridge
and thought of how long ago it had been
that I felt just like a person
without any particle of gender
age or social class mixed in.
And above my head there were floating
enormous blue-grey clouds . . .
* * *
I’ll live a quiet life
Spend evenings at home
Touch dry roses
with tips of wet fingers
petals smell like the sea
like dry rustling seaweed
they were thrown out from
mom’s uterus
and they can’t exist outside
the salty wetness
roses were born to dry out
water in this city is poisonous
roses never die
they stand for years on my bookshelves
and look like books that nobody needs
sometimes I reach for them
and touch dead flowers
with my live fingers
that had just stopped typing
these very lines