Friday, August 09, 2013


You’re a woman. Be strong. Life is going to throw many more challenges at you. You have to face them all.
I shiver.
Sometimes, I don’t want to be strong. I want to give in to whatever the hell is going down; it’s could very well be the only way my soul would be purged.  
I don’t want to hold fort all the time. And sometimes, I really cannot. My knees buckle and I can feel the earth crumble beneath my feet.
Sometimes, I do not want to take on the world. I don’t want to read feminist lines that talk about equality of women and empowerment.
I cannot be a feminist. Feminism is differentiation of some sort. I am human. To me, men and women are the same - Both love, laugh, hate, hurt, cry and hide. Social definitions mean nothing to me. I don’t care about straight people or gay people – I care about the line between good and bad and I know that sometimes, a sandstorm can hide that line. People cross over all the time. We are all guilty of something and if we sit on our high horses and start to judge, we’re damned. And it won’t matter whether we are straight or gay bi-curious or asexual.

Sometimes, I don’t want to be a woman at all.
I don’t like the idea of being told, “when you have your periods, it’s god’s way of telling you that you hold the key to giving life.”
I don’t give life to anything. I only facilitate the entrance. And I don’t want to bleed to prove that. 
I don’t want to be the woman who’s patted on the back for her bravery because people almost didn’t expect her to make it through to the next level. 
I don’t want to be told how fortunate I am to have found someone who cares. Sometimes, I would like that to be said about me.
I wonder how many people would have told my husband that: you’re one lucky bastard to have her. 
None of my exes, I am certain. 

In my weakest moments – when I can barely walk or lift a hand to push hair away from my face, I have someone doing it for me. Someone helps me get off the bed and put on my clothes, takes me to work and waits to bring me back. I have been fed, hugged, comforted, tickled and entertained when all I wanted to do was crawl under the bed and possibly, perish.
And that someone is not a woman.
I am proud that I am alive and healthy enough to earn a living. I am also proud that I am human. But honestly, I don’t give a rat’s ass about being a woman. I think this whole gender thing is way too overrated.