Signed, Stamped, Not Mine. By: Amanda Burton
They said it could never happen here… so why does it feel like it already has? If it doesn’t affect you, you’re lucky. Not right. #unfiltered #womensrights #speak #mybodymyrules #gilead
Reading Amanda Burton's "Signed, Stamped, Not Mine" deeply resonated with me as someone who follows the ongoing debates around women's rights and bodily autonomy. The poem vividly captures the unsettling reality of how quickly rights can be stripped away—not through dramatic acts, but by quiet legal changes and political decisions that many people barely notice until it’s too late. What struck me most is the sense of invisibility and silence—the absence of mass protests or dramatic scenes, replaced by subtle legislative shifts that bind and control. It reminded me of how feeling powerless comes not just from overt oppression, but from watching democratic processes used to curtail freedoms subtly, almost invisibly. The poem’s references to "no red robes" and "no bonnets" evocatively recall dystopian themes, yet underline that such threats to freedom aren’t always fanciful—they manifest in real-world laws affecting real people. "Stamped, signed, no longer mine" felt like a personal lament about losing control over one’s own body and choices. It made me reflect on recent headlines and stories where women’s rights have been legally challenged, often framed as protection, yet resulting in erasure of autonomy. This piece also highlights how when one tries to speak out, they are dismissed or labeled as "too loud" or "overreacting." It echoes experiences shared by countless activists and everyday people feeling ignored or silenced when they advocate for rights. The poem’s call to attention is a reminder that rights must be vigilantly protected and that complacency can lead to loss. Reading it encouraged me to be more aware of the political landscape, to support women’s rights actively, and to listen to voices calling for justice. I hope others will find the same awareness and motivation in Burton’s poignant words. Overall, "Signed, Stamped, Not Mine" is not just poetry; it’s a powerful testimony of the quiet erosion of freedoms and a call to resist the slow theft of our rights through words and laws. It serves as an urgent reminder that what happens quietly in courts and legislatures impacts everyone, and standing up to protect bodily autonomy is more vital than ever.
Stamped, Signed, Not Mine By: Amanda Burton They told us it was fiction, far away, No red robes marching, not forced to obey. No scripts to follow, no reason for tears, Just stories written to bring about fear. But here we are, the ink is real, The law itself decides what I feel. No bonnets hiding, no whispered shame, Just politicians playing a godless game. They draft my body into forms, Sign my freedom away like it’s a norm. Call it “care” or call it “protection,” And still erase my own direction. A panel of hands that will never know The risk, the weight, the ignored “NO”. And yet they speak as if they hold The right to govern and to control. No chains, no robes, no public trial, Just quiet laws that stretch for miles. No one shouts when rights are clipped, They just vanish and leave us stripped. And if I speak, they call me loud, “Overreacting” and “too proud” But how much silence did it take For all the choices they now remake? This isn’t fiction. This isn’t past. It’s a quiet theft that moves too fast. It’s laws that bend like iron bars, And claim they’re written for our stars. So no red cloaks, no sacred text, No twisted plot, no one knows what’s next. Just courts and votes and ink that binds The body you live in, the rights they decline. And if you think it isn’t here, Look at the headlines, look at the fear. A right that’s ours by birth and name Is suddenly a stranger’s claim. I feel it in my chest, my veins, The anger, fury, all the pain. The quiet theft, the polished crime, Stamped, signed, no longer mine.