“A man named J. Epstein had the audacity to write that Dr. Jill Biden should rethink her name.”

(Sarah Lazarus for Crooked Media, December 14th, 2020)

I don’t have a Ph.D,
but it wouldn’t matter if I did.
Saying “my husband” still garners
greater respect.

“My husband” is magic,
an incantation that transforms me
from an unassuming girl
into a married woman;

everyone stops to wonder
if I am a missus,
if I changed my name—

even my mother slips up
after I told her no, I didn’t, twice.
After the second time, she asks,

“How does he feel about that?”

Everyone guesses when I’ll have a baby,
my womb suddenly more prized
than the body that carries it—

only important now
that it may contain
part of my husband

“My husband, my husband, my husband.”
I say it in threes as a spell
to protect me—

to the mechanic,
to the realtor,
to myself.

It means someone important
will take notice
if you hurt me.

It means I have worth,
Because I don’t alone,
In spite of my three degrees.

My husband has fewer than me,
but he still makes more money.

Dr. Jill Biden has a husband, like me.
Dr. Jill Biden worked in schools, like me.
Dr. Jill Biden was underpaid, like me.

But the only good doctor
is a man,
and the only good woman
is meek.

Briana Naseer is a Pakistani-American school psychologist and poet living in Chicago, Illinois. She has a Bachelor’s Degree from the University of South Florida, and a Master’s Degree in Education and Education Specialist degree from The Chicago School of Professional Psychology. Her debut poetry collection is entitled Rind.