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We ostensibly have choices, but what kind of choice is it really for women, where the conditioning and patriarchal ideas of how a woman should be take the upper hand?
Swirling in fluid, dreaming an unseen dream Tiny limbs and features, with a naughty gleam Eyes opening and closing, dark all around That’s how it looked, my soul on being found…
Then came the birth, slow, steady and long drawn A blissful night ended, and came a reluctant dawn Being born as I was, was not a happy thing, I see I chose some battles, but most battles chose me…
Trotting on my feet, not a care, no worry I walked out in the open, but was taught to scurry Being a boy was a privilege, a girl wasn’t to be I chose some battles, but most battles chose me…
Dolls walked in as gifts, after dark strolls off bounds “You’re a girl“, I heard, world is full of hounds Rebelling just reaffirmed, what Mom had told me I chose some battles, but most battles chose me…
Being in a bus was a battle, and so was being in a train Being at work was a battle, so was being in rain Groping hands all over, eyes that mentally stripped me I chose some battles, but most battles chose me…
Working extra hours unwelcome, laughing out loud too Dignity, grace and poise ok, being carefree a taboo Moment after moment, just learning not to be me I chose some battles, but most battles chose me…
Then comes one day, a snapping point of some sort When I see two paths, Do or Die, in short… I choose to do, to be who I want to be I chose this battle, although many had chosen me…
Tongues wag and people tut, but this life in mine Being alive, to live and love, is nothing but divine No one takes this right to live, away from me I chose this battle, although many had chosen me…
Bus journeys are not battles, as I swing the shoe when I must I am not the one out of control, it’s that guy’s lust It’s HIS battle to fight, and to win, to keep his hands off me… I refuse more battles, simply thrust upon me…
A version of this was first published here.
Image source: pixabay
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UP Boards Topper Prachi Nigam was trolled on social media for her facial hair; our obsession with appearance is harsh on young minds.
Prachi Nigam’s photo has been doing the rounds on social media for the right reasons. Well, scratch that- I wish the above statement were true. This 15-year-old girl should ideally be revelling in her spectacular achievement of scoring a whopping 98.05% and topping her tenth-grade boards. But oddly enough, along with her marks, it’s something else that garners more attention – her facial hair.
While the trolls are driving themselves giddy by mocking this girl who hasn’t even completed her school yet, the ones who are taking her side are going one step ahead – they are sharing her photoshopped pictures, sans the facial hair, looking nothing less than a celebrity with captions saying – “Prachi Nigam, ten years later”.
Doctors have already diagnosed her with PCOD in their comments, based on photographic evidence. While we have names for people shamed for their weight – body shaming, for their skin colour- racism, for their age- age shaming, for being a female- sexism, this category of shaming where one faces criticism for their appearance has no name. With that, it also has zero shame attached to it.
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