Every break of dawn,it gets drummed into my ears,”You are a girl! You have to be meek and demure,your voice not so loud! Good girls don’t get raped! You should not be too straightforward or blunt,it is not lady-like…’ Tuned to the perfect blend between empty silence and a squeak, I have been beaten down to submission.

Gagged by the society; religion and tradition forming the golden muzzle. I am an after-thought,made inferior.

Under-represented with double standards plaguing me, I struggle with glass ceilings. Beautiful glass ceilings; little allowances that seem like freedom, yet choking as I grow my wings.

I get raped, it’s my fault anyways. ‘What was she wearing? Where did she go to? She must have provoked him!’ My only crime was being born female. Everything I do gets policed because I am a moving stumbling block, a little more than a sexual symbol.

Why do I get indoctrinated that my femininity makes me less?! I am made in God’s image! beautiful!! powerful!!!. I am the nurturer, the one who produces and makes fruitful. It is hard, trying to revive my voice but I am getting there.

Virtue measured by how much filth could be tolerated in silent suffering, I reject that. Though femininity is not valued, I am redefining her. I cry, I am seen as fragile and weak; I speak out my truth, I am seen as difficult. Judged by my fashion choices instead of my capabilities, told to not be ‘too ambitious’

I look into the mirror today,tears wiped away. I take back my voice. I have started the journey, breaking free of the shackles holding me down, shattering glass ceilings, disregarding their beauties. For the bold women before me and the little ones after me, I use my voice to enlighten,fight and protect.

The femininity finally emerging from the bleakness; she finally stands side to side with the masculinity, complementing in equality and equity. Together, the playing field is made even and the future bright.

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