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You are not just your body, no matter what the world of men tells you, says Noor in this powerful poem, that urges girls to go out there and get hold of their own destinies.
The Indian girl child is told often enough that she doesn’t deserve better. That she’s nothing more than a womb. That she can’t possibly ask for more. Yet, women refuse to give up on the dream of equality, of seizing their place in the sun. Starting 6th October 2018, as part of the conversations we have at Women’s Web for the International Day of the Girl Child on 11th October, we present a special series in which a few of our best authors write about #GirlPower. Some write from their own experience as girls, some about the significant girls in their lives, and some even to future daughters – a rich tapestry of emotions that is woven with love, bravery, inspiration, hope, fear, pain, and so much more.
You’re a GIRL, says Noor in this powerful poem, and the world is yours for the taking. Own your choices, embrace your femininity, be YOU, completely and truly, body, mid and soul, and no patriarchy can take that away from you.
Have you ever?
Touched your swelled up breasts.
Have you ever?
Licked your lips.
Have you ever?
Felt the rush of pure menstruating blood.
Have you ever?
Embraced yourself, Vagina to Hips.
Try to bury you.
Put you down.
Come to unclothe you.
Question your femininity and frown?
Quickly down the lanes of years,
I understood the politics of patriarchy,
They worshipped the image
That I could not, at all, be.
Lot of expectations
in the garb of ideal
thrown over at me.
A disguised benchmark
from Protagonists of daily soaps,
To the sacrificial goat: my mother was.
As a Girl, I cursed the villainous women,
The ones ruined houses
Seducing our poor ‘innocent men’,
Be it real lives or daily soaps.
Never wanted to be one,
I restricted my life,
To be another sacrificial goat
Who cries but never questions the men’s aggressive sight.
I remember the guilt:
Menstruation made me feel.
I was soon to be a woman,
With swelled up breasts and brown tits.
Reducing myself to a burdened object,
I cursed my body, my life as a Girl.
I did not want to flourish and,
scared of grabbing attention of male’s sexual world.
Locked myself up for years to go in silence,
I did not open up,
When one fine day,
My learnings made me realize my worth.
I touched my breasts.
I wanted to see it, right.
I wanted to feel myself and say
‘It’s radiant to be a girl,
To be the girl, who was put down and still thrived.’
I looked at my lips:
They were Pink and beautiful.
Like I kissed myself,
when I realized my power as a girl.
I could not keep calm
I wanted to run and jump and touch the sky
Oh I realised my immense capabilities,
That moment, I felt right.
I was taught to protect my vagina,
Taught not to talk about it.
At the end,
It’s the hub of honour
that my society protects.
I did realize.
Did realize the culprits in the town,
It’s not in my pants,
But the politics with which patriarchy frowns.
The men on the roads,
Who unclothe me with eyes.
Why do I curse my baby,
That makes me embrace myself as feminized.
I broke the barriers.
I lifted away the ceiling.
I could lead and burn,
With the fire came with my healing.
I dwell on my courage,
My bravery makes me reproduce.
The body holds body,
Is anything stronger than this robust clarion?
I call it loud. I issue the Charter.
To the girls, by the girl, for the girls:
‘Never dwell on the restrictions, that
hinder your growth. You have,
extreme power of empathy, to spread
Love and still grow. Never dwell
on the restrictions, that question your movement,
you are complete in yourself,
to disown such blows. Create a saga that this world sings,
devoid yourself of adjustments and sacrifices,
Be the Martyr
Who fights for herself,
Come out as a leader,
who enlightens by walking the way.
You don’t need to be fairy or flower,
Or the women we see in godly avatars.
Be the merciless warrior,
if that’s the call for you,
Or be the woman who spends day,
With self-respect in herself and love for beau.
Blow cracks in time,
You shout for your space,
If you don’t get it,
Girl, just slay: your strength says.
Always remember, You are a Girl,
The preserver and the destroyer,
Know when to be soft
And when to be mould the society’s wire’.
Image source: pixabay
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. If you have a complementary or differing point of view, you can request to be a Women's Web contributor too!
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