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Women are so conditioned to not feel as though they own their own things, home, kitchen,... life - that the default is often a seeking of permission.
Women are so conditioned to not feel as though they own their own things, home, kitchen,… life – that the default is often a seeking of permission.
Trigger warning: This post contains depiction of normalised violence against women, and may be triggering for survivors.
The guilt hisses when from my own kitchen I give myself an extra serving of rice. for whom my apology, or from whom permission? the baby that I can’t conceive because I’m too fat? (or so I’ve been told, repeatedly) my body, that has never loved me back? every indigestible ‘don’t’ and ‘no,’ an unsealing crack.
at the store, I find a lipstick like, look at the price tag and put it back. for now, it’s his money, not mine, that makes my world go round and I hate to ask, even when I know he’ll say yes. no one quite understands why, not even I. I loathe everything about this “choice.”
I find I must take a deep breath, every time I sit to write. I know my words will offend but who? and when? and why? and how? each question, a bullet, aimed at me. oftentimes, I simply am not brave enough. better women than me have died quite literally, for daring to speak out, so fear colours the ink in which my words are wrought .
the neckline on the dress I love is a little too low, a safety pin comes to the rescue, but I flinch at my own hypocrisy. I wonder why their eyes matter more than me. what I wear and how I wear it will speak louder than my poetry. when the anger surfaces, I quell it with practicality.
But it exhausts me, being the good girl. it is hard work, finding the loopholes that allow my little “badness.” I can’t just be fallible, you see, it’s not just about me. every little fault, hung out to dry, is a judgement on all my sisters. because it’s always “all women.”
So then I perform this sleight of hand. the docile goddess is but a disguise, a misdirection, and meanwhile it is the rebel girls that my secret hand feeds. every day i water that seed, so a day will come when my daughters won’t need to ask, “may I?”
Author’s Note: This poem was written in response to a prompt, “Why do womxn take permission?” shared in the Facebook writing group, Womxn Of Political Writing. The prompt made me think of the many ways in which I do take permission. Most of the time, I seem to need my own permission –because conditioning means that even when I theoretically know that I can and must do what makes me happy, guilt, shame or fear still arise.
It was this that I wrote about then.
Image source: shutterstock
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If her home and family seem to be impacted by her career then we expect her to prioritize her ‘responsibilities at home as a woman’ and leave her job.
The entrenched patriarchal norms have always perpetuated certain roles and responsibilities as falling specifically in the domain of either men or women. Traditionally, women have been associated with the domestic sphere while men have been considered the bread winner of the household. This division of roles has become so ingrained in our lives that we seldom come to question it. However, while not being questioned does give the system a certain level of legitimacy, it in no way proves its veracity.
This systematic division has resulted in a widely accepted notion whereby the public sphere is demarcated as a men’s zone and the private sphere as belonging to women. Consequently, women are expected to stay at home and manage the household chores while men are supposed to go out and make a living with no interest whatsoever in the running of the household.
This divide is said to be grounded in the intrinsic nature of men and women. Women are believed to be compassionate, affectionate and loving and these supposedly ‘feminine’ qualities make them the right fit for caring roles. Men, on the other hand are allegedly more sturdy, strong and bold and hence, the ones to deal with the ordeals of the outside world.
Investing in women means many things beyond the obvious meaning of this IWD2024 theme, as the many orgs doing stellar work can show us.
What does it mean to invest in women?
Telling the women in our lives how great we think they are? That we value the sacrifices they have made? (Usually though not necessarily only – a sacrifice of their aspirations, careers and earning potential in order to focus on family).
No, thank you. Just talk is no longer going to cut it. Roses and compliments are great, but it’s time people, leaders, organizations put their money, capital, resources on track instead.
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