As a young, Australian-born Tamil woman, Srisha Sritharan uses poetry to explore contemporary socio-politics. While studying Business at UTS, Srisha’s passion for spoken word was birthed during her time as a previous Editor for Vertigo. She hopes to combine serial sh*t-talking with her musical flair to start pressing conversations, both locally and globally.
Women. Woo men.
slide our thighs along hungry fingertips,
graze our lips against stubborn collarbones,
arch our backs away from thirsty hips,
take what’s yours but leave some for me.
Somewhere near you
a small girl is learning how it feels.
To the boys who will never become men:
I mourn for you. I write this மந்திரம்*
“I am sad that my father never taught me how to touch a woman.
I am sad for my mother, who knows how I touch a woman.
I am sad that this power I didn’t ask for,
didn’t fight for,
didn’t plead for,
didn’t march for,
blurs a woman’s incoherent “no” with what I want to hear, “yes, yes, yes!”
I am sad for the son I will bear
who will never really know how it feels, “powerless”
who will never
shed uterine walls,
censor his nipple,
bear a son who will silence a woman,
who will assume consent
who will defend other sons,
roar in unison,
they will never become men.”