#CelebrateingtheRainbow at the workplace – share your stories of Pride!
A woman's war is something anyone with a vagina fights for a place of dignity, from babyhood to the last breath. It is supposed to be 'normal' for a woman, you see!
A woman’s war is something anyone with a vagina fights for a place of dignity, from babyhood to the last breath. It is supposed to be ‘normal’ for a woman, you see!
We all fight! Everyday!
We fight with that impatient screaming alarm clock for those few ‘seconds’ of sleep. In case of not having the luxury of a private bathroom, we fight to grab the white throne. We fight against that shirt button which demands freedom from its strings at the last moment, those creases which are determined to show their individuality and shoe laces which refuse to agree on a single point like two opposition parties in the parliament.
Fighting to grab that strategic standing spot in the morning hours on a local, through the highway traffic, that prolonged promotion or impressing that cute colleague in the office. And the end of the day tired from all the moves, struggles, manipulations, achievements, and wounds we lay down our arms to sleep. This war is pervasive, omnipresent and has no country, cultural or gender barrier.
But there is one war which is fought everyday, each hour and each minute. A woman’s war!
A war to protect her dignity, a war to prove herself a good mother, a desirable goddess, a great cook, strong professional, a culturally sensitive idol, a tolerant body and a feminine soul.
This war is pervasive – irrespective of her status, education, intellect or whether her Karma is a bitch or not. You see, one is subjected to this war not by choice but by the privilege of having a vagina.
If she is a homemaker – she is not even considered to be fighting a war. She is ‘retired-hurt’ in terms of men who believe that housework is not ‘that’ Work. So, if being a housewife she wakes up early, packs tiffin, takes care of the elderly, feeds the pet, does the laundry, rushes to do the bank work, gets the homework done – according to earning members of society, she has been doing the least she should be doing! Even when she tries to justify her existence to herself she is given suggestions on how she can utilize her ‘free time’ rather than wasting it ‘watching television’ –
“Din bhar to ghar mein khaali baithi rehti ho, yahi kar liya karo!”
“Bas khana to banana hota hai!”
“Din bhar ka thaka hara aaya hun, aur yeh mil raha hai khane main!”
Etc. etc.
If she is ‘working‘, she fights double or even triple than what a normal working person fights every day. If you thought that waking up the earliest and ensuring food for her family to go through the day was the only extra work she must take on – you are mistaken.
She juggles between the role of a wife, mother, daughter and professional amidst menstrual cramps, hormonal imbalances, bleeding body, emotional over work, sexual advances, unforgiving fashion police, desperate boss, male egoism at work, judgemental weighing scales along with the pressure to start a family or manage one.
She fights every scanning glare which reads her body proportion in smart clothes, she battles every step with an armour in her spirits and grit in her soul for she may be touched, groped, or catcalled by anyone at any point of times.
You see – there is a difference between the Road and the Ramp. While she dresses to impress as she walks like a queen in her favourite designer dress on the ramp, she dons a sword with a soldier’s armour in public spaces with a conscious choice of clothes depending on the area she is venturing into. And when we say public spaces, it worthy to mention those jails, orphanages, mental asylums and ‘public welfare’ factories, where irrespective of her being a prisoner or a constable, pregnant or a 10-year-old, her being molested, raped or aborted is normal and is “this is how the world works!”
So you see, on the surface it’s all pink and beautiful – while red, gory, shame and agony dance deep within. She fights to balance between the two parallel lines of this hypocritical world.
What she has been taught vs what she thought.
Where she wants to be vs where it is safe to be.
What she wants to do vs what she can’t.
What she can achieve vs what limits she is reminded of repeatedly.
Fights she must take on everyday which are neither acknowledged nor understood much.
No! Am not another woman ‘whining’ about our problems with plans to sit on a dharna demanding bodyguards, compensation, sympathy, or another women cell. It’s a shootout to those who bravely face it every day and yet go unacknowledged as it’s generally never considered a problem at all!
Believe me – you are not the only one. You are strong and wonderful!
Image source: pixabay
Writer,Quiller,Empath ,Researcher who loves reading classics with instrumental in the background. When not reading,chatting,penning poems or studying she can be found indulging in black-currant at the nearest ice-cream parlour. read more...
Women's Web is an open platform that publishes a diversity of views, individual posts do not necessarily represent the platform's views and opinions at all times.
Stay updated with our Weekly Newsletter or Daily Summary - or both!
Can you believe this bloke compelled me to wear only saris - full time at home- till the eighth month of my pregnancy?! The excessive heat coupled with humidity made my life miserable.
Recently when I browsed an interesting post by a fellow author on this very forum I had a sense of déjà vu. She describes the absolutely unnecessary hullabaloo over ladies donning nighties and /or dupatta –less suits.
I wish to narrate how I was in dire straits so far wearing a ‘nightie’ was concerned.
I lived in my ultra orthodox sasural under constant surveillance of two moral guardians (read Taliban) in the shape of the husband’s mom and dad. The mom was unschooled and dim-witted while the dad was a medical practitioner. But he out-Heroded the Herod in orthodoxy.
My supervisor introduced me as a valuable member of the team, emphasizing my skills and contributions rather than focusing on my gender identity. This simple act set the tone for my experience in the workplace.
As a transwoman navigating the corporate world, I had encountered my fair share of discrimination and challenges. Transitioning without the support of my parents and having limited friendships in my personal life made the journey difficult and lonely. However, when I stepped into the office, something remarkable happened, I left behind the stress and negativity, embracing a space where I could truly be myself.
Joining the marketing team as a graphic designer, I was initially apprehensive about how my colleagues would react to my gender identity. But to my surprise, the atmosphere was welcoming and respectful from day one. My supervisor, Sarah, introduced me as a valuable member of the team, emphasizing my skills and contributions rather than focusing on my gender identity. This simple act set the tone for my experience in the workplace.
As I settled into my role, I discovered that my colleagues went out of their way to make me feel comfortable and included. They consistently used my correct name and pronouns, creating an environment where I could be authentically me. Being an introvert, making friends wasn’t always easy for me, but within this workplace, I found a supportive community that embraced me for who I truly am. The workplace became a haven where I could escape the stresses of my personal life and focus on my professional growth.
Please enter your email address