a terrible painter, a dreamer, a rebel , a feminist and a self certified bisexual Witch. Who is always trying to visualize whats on the other side of the canvas she paints,just another human- Living alive Life. Now also a green tea addict.

Sunday, 24 March 2013

Celebrating Girls, Celebrating Women’

Being the second child always had its advantage, being second girl child was a bliss. I was raised up  by the  strict yet friendliest mother. But being born as a girl was not easy. I did not face discrimination at home nor did I grow as a delicate flower.

I grew up, playing with dolls, I was in love with pink, pretty and cute. May be that was the fate I was destined to have. I had girl best-friends, I was growing ignorant and prejudiced. This attitude of mine turned around when I was in fifth grade, when few boys were disturbing us. They called girls "weaaaak!!" and it hit a cord in my brain. I was already a bulky child and had good energy I challenged one of the boys for Arm wrestling, I defeated him. It was after this incident, and few other discrimination faced in school and other places that slowly pink started to whether away from my closet. I happily chose the Armour of being a boy. I claimed I was a boy, the one who carry family name forward. I technically became the first tomboy discovered in my class. I slowly found being a boy was easier at times. I acted tough like a man, in school plays dramas I became boy, I rode cycle with boys I fairly became blind to the girly and beautiful aspect of me.

This attitude resulted in my isolation in my teenage, I was expert with slang at times better than boys. Sharing beyblade trading cards, watching guys anime all had become my nature. But with onset of puberty, when chest remained no longer flat and periods occurred, I was knocked off like a a boxer punched me. Here I was a girl claiming to be a boy, I dressed like one spoke like one, suddenly I was entering Pink world again. At this point I lost my buddies who no longer found me a boy, since during periods you are not to jump around. Taekwondo became my new friend, all I ever wanted was to be strong like boys. But when Bra came to my life, all hell broke loose, I found it as an instrument of captivity. My persent condition made me a person so alone, I neither belonged to boys anymore and girls found be rough to be with.The whole question to become strong became pointless, soon I realised I was stronger than any boy could be. I bled yet I did not faint it was an achievement. In this clumsiness and self doubt I started to hang out with the rotten kids, older, younger my classmates, to point where my grades drop to almost drop me out of school. I became a rebel without a cause, violent and ruthless.

Soon I was rescued from the rotten group by my best friend and I started to see a clear world. I gained my senses back and with help of my mother and best friends I was saved from the unwanted Isolation created by me. Now I am 19 and all fueled up feminist at heart. When I look back I find the weak me was trying to grow up. All the novels we read in childhood spoke about adventures of boys, the fairy-tales always had princess rescued. I wanted to be my own rescuer. Girls were always painted in pink and this made me hate Pink. I don't blame myself for my childhood distraction. We have always stereotyped girls, girls cry boys don't, girls were pink boys don't, girls are weak boys strong, girls cook boys don't. Still in our society, we ask the well being of a girl with her relationship tag. Married? Unmarried? Divorced? Widowed?. May be all this complexities were hidden to my childish eyes. But the more I grow up the more complex women's position is.

I take pride that I am the sixth generation of girl who is getting education in my family. One of my classmate was amazed when he heard my grandmother was a matriculate just after independence and even more astonished when he found my mother was a graduate with history major. If we have to celebrate being female we have to remove stereotypical thoughts we implant. Today I accept my weakness and strength. I don't wait for the stamp to be me. I fight, I protest whenever I see injustice to women is done. Just celebrating being a women is no longer enough we have to instigate a sense of pride to be born women.

Now I am happy to be a girl, soon I will work and earn a living for myself and achieve my dreams. I take pride in my existence. Today's women are empowered and forth coming. My elder sister has been my inspiration but my Mother my Ideal. My sister taught me to be unapologetic and fierce in my motives and my mother taught me to carry  my dignity with me. If we have to empower girls of my age and younger we need to give her freedom. Freedom from prejudiced thoughts, from virtual captivity created in name of tradition. Most important teach each and every girl, like mentioned in my previous posts "Respect Thy Self".  We have to tell their is no shame in being me.

Every girl is precious, because she is not some Pink Gem to be embedded in a locker but a spirit force to create change. Celebrating Me should be our motive, to live for our dreams not to keep a face in society. I believe I have a power to help women and girls of my age, I want to grow, be the change. In the end I want to make a difference. I don't want young girls to become misguided tomboys and end up being isolated, I don't want girls of my age to be married off, I don't want many things. So instead of shouting I need to make every other women aware of her potential to grow and rule the world. May be feminine, may be masculine, may be both but we have to grow together for the welfare of the all the women around the world. So that one day all women can say she celebrates being she.

All we need is to teach that  no prince charming will make us happy unless we stand on our feet, grab our dreams, love alone cannot fight the world. Yes we all want happy endings, but whats the point in running away and getting married leaving education behind, whats the fun in waiting to get money from your husband when you can earn your own, whats the point in being perfect if you ain't respected for your efforts?  Isn't it better be to be perfect for our own self then pretend and be uptight because society said so?

for a while lets us Celebrate being us....

P.S- its a blog post for another Women Webs contest, I dont care if I win or not, but its a great chance to make my feelings heard.

thanking you to bear with me

1 comment:

  1. The bestest one. Blunt, producing an effective affect with its Bildungsroman theme. If i were the judge of the contest, I would reward this blogger personally with one of the short stories of Kate Chopin. Hats Off and heads off blogger.