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Allow her...let her... Enough of such language that pleads. Women, rise up your arms and reach for the sky. Dare to reach beyond what you think you can!
Allow her…let her… Enough of such language that pleads. Women, rise up your arms and reach for the sky. Dare to reach beyond what you think you can!
Am I asking for too much? Is it too difficult to accept the fact that a woman should live her life in her own terms? Is it not doable that she makes her own choices and everyone accepts it with much needed poise and dignity?
No, I am not even talking here about the big things in life you see. I am trying to tap the mundane, just the basic, something that is routine, her right. Is that still very difficult?
The bare, naked truth is, it is difficult. Difficult not in one, but on various levels. ‘Allowing’ women to have their way is a farce, an illusion that we all live with. Let’s face it.
Where do I possibly begin? Because as I write this, everywhere around me, I just see women who are being pinned down for their choices. What they want to study, where they want to study, and topping it all if at all they should study? Yes, you heard it right. And then, what she wears and why she wears what she wears. And then whom she loves and why does she love. If she is working, then why is she working? And, if she isn’t, then why isn’t she working. And then it’s kind of deluge after marriage – if she is breathing, why is she breathing, at all?? Huh….
When a girl is born, she is born with some choices. She has every right to make it work in her own way, on her own terms. We all are masters of our own destinies. Building it bit by bit and hiking in their way of life. Why do we need to prove ourselves at every single point? We don’t. And we shouldn’t in fact.
Why do we always need permission to make our choices? Or should I say why we should anyone seek permission at all? Again an emphatic NO. Why are we judged for being what we are? Isn’t it that every individual has the right to live the way they want? Why we are answerable for the path we choose to walk on? We shouldn’t answer any such questions!
What we should actually do is walk the path that paves the way for the others too. Light a lamp of hope, I call it. Why has sacrifice, compromise, and making adjustments at the cost of our self esteem and self respect become a way? Again… Stand up, don’t let this happen. Live and love for yourself, before you do it for anyone else.
It is a conditioned society that we live in. Why this conditioning is so pervasive for women, always? Why squash all her dreams and aspiration under the burden of norms and rules? It is an undeniable fact that women form the basic fulcrum of the society. Or should I say the universe, the mere mankind. She is the birth giver, the nurturer. And sadly, the one who gives you life is not allowed to live. Several are there who die every moment. They are crucified under the pretext of ‘false manhood’. They are lynched because they are ‘thinkers’. They are ripped for being “outrageous”, and they are murdered for just ‘living’. I say, think, act, be different, cut the norms and live.
Breathe, and breathe fearlessly you girl. Dance, and dance like noone is watching you. Sing, and sing as if that’s the last song of your life. Walk, and walk chin up like a tigress does, and dream, dream as if that was what you were born for. All you wonders out there… aspire. Inspire. Find your own unbound happiness, and turn your world around. Don’t extinguish the fire within, and win world with your unflinching determination and might.
Dare to live, dare to love, dare to reach where no one else has. Dare and do, you are born for this!
Image source: pixabay
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An avid reader, a blogger, a book reviewer, a freelancer writer and an aspiring author. She has an opinion about everything around. And through her writings she reaches out to the world. A mother of 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.
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Darlings makes some excellent points about domestic violence . For such a movie to not follow through with a resolution that won't be problematic, is disappointing.
I watched Darlings last weekend, staying on top of its release on Netflix. It was a long-awaited respite from the recent flicks. I wanted badly to jump into its praise and will praise it, for something has to be said for the powerhouse performances it is packed with. But I will not be able to in a way that I really had wanted to.
I wanted to say that this is a must-watch on domestic violence that I stand behind and a needed and nuanced social portrayal. But unfortunately, I can’t. For I found Darlings to be deeply problematic when it comes to the portrayal of domestic violence and how that should be dealt with.
Before we rush to the ‘you must be having a problem because a man was hit’ or ‘much worse happens to women’ conclusions, that is not what my issue is. I have seen the praises and criticisms, and the criticisms of criticisms. I know, from having had close associations with non-profits and activists who fight domestic violence not just in India but globally, that much worse happens to women. I have written a book with case studies and statistics on that. Neither do I have any moral qualms around violence getting tackled with violence (that will be another post some day).
Gender stereotypes, though a by-product of the patriarchal society that we have always lived in, are now so intricately woven into our conditioning that despite our progressive thinking, we are unable to break free from them.
Repeatedly crossing, while on my morning walk ̶ a sticky, vine-coloured patch on the walkway, painted by jamuns that have fallen from the jamun tree, crushed by the impact of their fall, and perhaps, inadvertently trampled upon by walkers, awakens memories of the mulberry tree that stood in my parents’ house when I was growing up. Right at the entrance of the house, the tree caused a similar red and violet chaos on the floor, which greeted us each time we entered the gate.
Today, as I walked by this red-violet patch, I was reminded of an incident that my mother had narrated to me several times. It had taken place shortly after her marriage and her arrival in this house from her hometown.