There is a word for it
Only Japanese women whisper.
Out of place
Not belonging
The sole woman in a room of men.
You never quite know what their eyes are saying
When I was younger, I just swallowed it down
And ignored the uncomfortable scratching in my throat.
Ignored that I was China in a room full of bulls.
Powered through the presentation 
Careful and demur.
Nodded at advice given for my consideration
And try my best to disappear into the curtains
Although my singularity was a spotlight.
Now that I am older it still happens on the regular
I find myself woman among men
But now the discomfort is palpable 
How did I get here?
What made me think I should just show up in this space 
Among the balding guitar gods?
Dang I am not wearing my wedding ring.
Do I need to explain how the weight is uncomfortable,
restrictive on my fingers
As they glide over steel strings?
The shock of my voice as I step up to the mic
An octave over their rumbling baritone.
And it befuddles me every time.
I am just a girl learning again.