With a sprinkle of pain and humor.
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Being a woman is difficult. Not hard, just difficult. There are no manuals, no one to induct you or provide you with a set of carefully constructed set of instructions, you’re just plopped down, pointed at and declared, “Henceforth thee shall be judged upon unknown biases and unmentionables.”
I recall staring at the finger and thinking, “…what?”
The art of being a woman isn’t complex per say, just confusing. Mostly because for some unknown reason it depends on a multitude of factors. We as a society are built upon cogs of multiple opinions and preconceived notions. Each of this manages to affect the quality of life we have as a woman. Now I cannot possibly claim to know what every individual is going through – mostly because that’s just rude – , so I’ll just stick to my experience thus far and what I have seen.
So, now it’s time for stories, observations, and general happenings. Each of these moments led to another block being added to build me, just as your experiences built you, I don’t regret them, only that it could have been so much simpler to just be better.
Buying Red
Growing pains are annoying, your body disobeys you in every possible manner and you spend most of the time curled up with cramps, relearning your own biology. It isn’t a fun experience. To add to the misery, you now have to shop for “feminine products”.
What I have learned is, a whole lot of complications also balance upon the culture that you are a part of. I remember the first time I got my periods it was exam time and I had to go to school, that wasn’t the bad part, luckily my family is one that takes it all in stride but what stands out is when one day I had to go get sanitary pads from the local store.
The stares made me feel as though I had asked for diluted cow dung. Or something along similar lines. The shopkeeper avoided my stare and wrapped the pads in layers of newspaper and multiple bags before handing it over to me. What shocked me the most was that it was a woman. Shouldn’t she out of everyone understand me? It felt as though having basic biology is still something to be shy about.
I love sports, I have friends who are the same and we had a coach who was very supportive, if a bit stern. One day my friend was on her periods while we were playing and managed to get her track pants slightly stained, it wasn’t a big deal yet when we went to get her cleaned up the coach got mad at her and yelled that she should have known better and not played in the first place.
My friend was mortified and ran before we could stop her. It was a hardly something that was noticeable, yet we were to be ashamed of it. We laughed at it later, it was amusing but we also never played during our periods, somehow nervous to do so again.
The sad fact was, growing up didn’t scare me, nor was I grossed out by it but for some reason it managed to affect complete strangers.
Growing Pink
Society comes with a set of rules and regulations and at the end of this “manual” you have a checklist and to be an acceptable member you must check all the boxes, not one or two, all of them. It differs based on the region and culture.
The basic necessities are apparently marriage and kids. These are the vital and defining aspects of what crown you as a woman. It never mattered whether you are happy or satisfied, so long as you check those boxes, it’s more than enough. So, it was of no great surprise when as soon as I hit my 20s multiple “well-wishers” swept down upon me and demanded to know why I wasn’t married yet and how come my parents weren’t concerned over this factor.
Their main talking point was, I’d go past my prime and then no one would want me. Apparently, a woman’s beauty comes with an expiration date. What matters your countless achievements if you don’t have a man?
I clearly remember one of them saying, “A woman’s place is at home taking care of the family.” It felt as though for all our modernizations some of us still seemed to be suspended in the medieval era.
I had so many of my brilliant friends drop out early or make it till the end and then immediately get married, not because they wanted to but because they had to, it was what the society expected of them and was required of them. For a while I was depressed, thinking something must be wrong with me because I am the only one and I still didn’t want to be married, so this make the bad guy, right?
I started dodging calls and texts of my friends because no matter what our chats cycled back to one point, am I seeing someone yet? Because if I stayed alone then, “people” would talk. Who were these people and why were they so concerned?
Sometimes I feel if we spent all this time being concerned about ourselves, we as a society would be far better.
Talking Green
Envy. Greed. Toxicity. All are shades of greed, the more poisonous, the better. It’s a rare talent which if polished will not only annihilate the person before you but also everything around you including yourself. All without a single finger lifted.
So, it is of no great surprise that so many of us use it. Communication helps build relationships but if used wrongly, it can also help shatter these relationships. Being on the receiving end of it, I can vouch for the pain caused by some well crafted words. The surprising fact was how for all our talks on empowerment, it’s women who work best in dismantling other women. Guess poison is our preferred choice of weapon.
At work…
Competition is healthy but at some point, we must draw the line, breaking down someone rarely wins anyone a trophy.
I am not much of a talker, but this lets me listen, and my…the things I’ve heard, from “How does she earn more than me?” to “Is she really wearing that?”, the whispers take a life of their own and finally manage to reach to the object of conversation herself, shattering her carefully crafted confidence for the day.
At home…
At home I spent more of my time avoiding my well-meaning groom hunting relatives than anything else. In fact, once I remember shifting entire countries to avoid certain formalities. It might seem silly now, but I recall being genuinely nervous that someone was chasing us.
If they couldn’t physically reach us, then they would spend time carefully crafting voice messages that was meant to brainwash us and convince us to meet. It was truly a toxic combination.
Those were moments when a drained phone battery earned a look of relief.
…
We do not need someone else to destroy us, we manage to destroy ourselves wonderfully. It is the same for empowerment. We spent ages arguing about it, yet it takes use mere moments to shatter a fellow woman’s confidence.
Empowering one another doesn’t need to be a large moment, it could be something small; empower your sister, your friend or even just yourself.
Empowering means accepting who you are yourself; acceptance and accepting others as they are too.
It means to build your home without trampling over some else’s garden.
Thank you for reading! Also, I sure do love support and coffees! 💜
