As I sit at this bar stool leaning over my drink, typing these words incessantly on my phone, I can feel the world slowly fade away behind me. Sipping cranberry flavoured vodka, I let my words scream louder than the electronic dance music that’s being blasted. They need to be released so here I am. 

From a very young age I have been aware of the fact that women are treated a bit differently, condescendingly, inhumanly in that order. Eventually it was the books I read that told me about this fight, which has been fought since time immemorial, which is constantly being fought each second. For every time I read something sexist, something demeaning; I’ve come across people who support women, some partial towards, some even put them at a higher pedestal than men. 

The important thing to understand is that this war, this fight for being treated as one is born, is not confined to the conventional ways in which women are constantly told they aren’t good enough. A woman must be treated as an individual, an individual who is bad at one thing and possibly good at several others and vice versa. The fight for my place in the society has to be fought everyday, but a woman’s fight is not against men. It’s against anyone who tells her she isn’t worth being free, it’s against anyone who tells her that her flaws are because of her genitals. 

Why? Why are we constantly ashamed of being ourselves? I constantly meet women who don’t want to be seen eating too much or wanting too much sex. I meet women who are ashamed of liking things just because they fall in the stereotypical category of ‘women like’. Women who are ashamed of loving one man, women who are ashamed of wanting many. Women ashamed of not wanting a child, women ashamed of wanting women. Why are we so ashamed of the things we love? Why should we not love things and yell that we love them from rooftops till we fill the sky with our love? What’s holding us back? 

No I’m not ashamed of wanting a man who is capable of treating me like a woman. I’m not ashamed of holding a hand that gives me strength. I’m not ashamed of being loved for my flaws, I’m not ashamed of being accepted, cherished even. I don’t want a man who tells me I can’t. I don’t want a man who’s afraid of the energy my soul contains. I want a man who pushes me, who challenges me, who’s at one time my anchor holding me and at the other a mirror showing me who I truly am. I want a man who is unashamed of loving a woman in her entirety. I have, rather. 


4 thoughts on “Unashamedly.

  1. I love how you are so true to yourself! True, we classify things too much, stereotypes are created and people are afraid of falling in one category or the other. To hell with all the categories! Let’s just be ourselves!

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