nurses who tell you to ice your bruised wrists and they ’ ll be healed in a week , the doctors , the doctors who tell you you ’ re going to have a baby , the doctors who tell you your baby is healthy even though your black eye wasn ’ t there at the last scan , the doctors who don ’ t ever seem to realise your baby will be beat just like you , the crowds of men outside the clinic shouting , the crowds of men who call your abortion a murder , the men in the crowd you recognise as the ones who shouted after you a few weeks ago , the men who shouted ‘ sexy mama ’ as you walked past them in the street , the Friday night drinkers , the drunks , the drugged-up dancers who grab and grind and grope , the drunk partners whose rage they hide in front of your children , the drunk partners who you stay with because of your children , the drunk partners who beg for your forgiveness when they ’ re sober , the boyfriends , the boyfriends who don ’ t like your friends , the boyfriends who think your dress is too low-cut , the boyfriends who you see every Saturday , the boyfriends who tantrum when it ’ s your brother ’ s birthday this Saturday , the boyfriends who sit silently at your family dinner , the boyfriends who say ‘ sorry , I was just tired ’, the boyfriends who won ’ t apologise because they did nothing wrong , the boyfriends who apologise profusely , crying , pleading , after they ’ ve smashed your face in with their fists , the carpet cleaners who don ’ t question the blood stains on the floor , the news anchors you watch on the tv reporting a woman in Saudi Arabia was stoned to death because she fled her marriage , the men who stone women for fleeing their marriages , the laws that allow women to be stoned for fleeing their marriages , the telly watchers who sit at home and think , ‘ thank fuck it ’ s not like that here ’, the men who have