Olivia Gatwood’s Alternate Universe: In Which She Is Unfazed By The Men Who Do Not Love Her

In Alternate Universe in Which I Am Unfazed by the Men Who Do Not Love Me, Gatwood is piercing with a gravel-grinding projection. There is grit in her words that have a sandpaper edge. They curl from behind her teeth. She is angry and then sincere, and the poem ends with Gatwood signalling a loving compassion for “the men”. This poem makes me feel overwhelming nostalgia and hits me right in the girlhood love affair. I find myself longing for peace with lovers in my past.

I think of this poem as a play in two acts. In the first act, Gatwood names the bones of her hand-picked Alternate Universe. She calls upon circumstances in which she reacts as if she were in an alternate reality; where, she is unfazed by the men who do not love her. Where men have been unkind towards her, Gatwood transcends and lists the ways that she dances through the grievances. This is done by revealing both her literal and metaphorical reactions. It is a rhythmic, punchy, and guttural listing of events.

“While the boy isn’t calling back, I learn carpentry. Build a desk. Write a book at the desk.”

“The boy says he prefers blondes, and I steam-clean his clothes with bleach.”

“The boy says I am not marriage material, and I put gravel in his pepper grinder.”

“The boy says period sex is disgusting, and I slaughter a goat in his living room.”

The first act is a social anthem infused with feminist politics. Gatwood holds a keen eye to the conversations society has about women’s bodies, and how the conversations effect women. I felt too, as a young woman, that the way I heard boys talking about my body did influence my relationship with myself. In the Alternate Universe, Gatwood is resilient and fierce to confront objectification. I’m in love with how she fires back and builds on herself, or takes down ideas with an obscene reaction. Then, a shift and a realisation unfolds. Gatwood begins noting that time in her Alternate Universe is not spent on “hours and hours of waiting for him to kiss me,” but instead “here they are just hours.”

The hours of her life are now precious to her, and used intimately for the other loves and pursuits of Gatwood’s life. She continues,

“Here, they are a bike ride across Long Island in June. Here, they are a novel read in one sitting. Here, they are arguments about God or a full night’s sleep. Here, I hand an hour to the woman crying outside of the bar, I leave one on my best friend’s front porch, send my mother two in the mail. I do not slice his tyres, I do not burn the photos. I do not write the letter. I do not beg. I do not ask for forgiveness. I do not hold my breath while he finishes. The man tells me he does not love me, and he does not love me. The man tells me who he is, and I listen.”

Gatwood concludes the second act with profound empathy for the boy and herself, the relationship they shared, and its ending. Gatwood radiates love. She exhales a blanket statement of pure compassion and forgiveness,

“I have so much beautiful time.”

Gatwood is an essential queer and feminist voice of the international spoken word community, and her Button Poetry ‘Alternate Universe‘ performance only adds to her flourishing legacy. Through her lens, we learn to be compassionate with ourselves, our relationships with our ex-lovers, and other men in our lives. We digest our relationships in a different light. We become soft and understanding with people who we have struggled with – who may test our worth or have hurt us, and where maybe, we have hurt each other. Gatwood delivers strong messages to young women who are in rapid-fire growth periods of their girlhood and adolescent years. Gatwood gifts her audience wildly nostalgic, emotional, feminist stories that illuminate our personal experiences as evolving girls. We hear our stories told back to us in a new way. We feel less alone because of her contribution.

Olivia Gatwood sheds us her wisdom, and hands us a licence to soar through the trials and tribulations of our own blooming love tales with emotional intelligence. We also make sense of the heartache and deaths of relationships with the emotional intelligence we have learned. Hopefully, we pick up her grace, gratitude and empathy as well. There is such surrender and freedom to be found in her hearty, strong-soft stories. I feel Olivia’s words firing up my chest every time I hear them.