1st July, 2015 Writers

I walk around with this weight beneath me.
This weightless weight...
It defines me,
It qualifies me,
It is who I am.
With it comes release, pleasure and then pain.
My sex.

I am a girl and I had not a choice.
This gift was thrust upon me for reasons beyond my horizon.
I have accepted it.
Why won't you?

I'm the helper, the life bearer, the care taker.
I'm not the lesser being.
I do not care to be held a prisoner by a lifeless part of me.
I'm more than just 'female'.
I'm more than 'breasts and buttocks'.
I'm more than your 'saddle'.
I'm a woman;  A person with feelings and dreams and the right to choose.
I'm not a rag doll, a trophy, a baby factory or a piece of furniture...
Don't treat me as one.

Let me live.
Let my ambitions thrive.
Let my talents and skills flourish.
Let the fire of hope in me burn.
Let my choices be mine.
Let me live for myself.

Dear Man, I ought to stand beside thee and not beneath.
Dear Culture, stop being biased against me.
Dear Religion, Aren't we all equal before God anymore?
Dear World, my ovaries are not yokes.

We are omnivores and not sin eaters.
We are not food to satiate the hunger between your legs.
We are not punching bags; find your way to the gym.
We are not weaklings because we are tender.
We are not dumb because we ought to submit.
We are not for the night, rag dolls to please yourself
Nor for the day, handbags to adorn yourself.
We are not victims.

I am the lover and the mother,
The wise and the strong,
The warrior and the teacher,
The cure to the insanity called "manhood",
The balm to soothe the madness of the young.
I am 'the woman'.

My sex is not a curse,
Today I cast off that cross.
I'll live above your beliefs.
I'll break loose from your grip.
Gender is itself
And I am myself.

Lagos, Nigeria
  • The African woman vents in the bid to be seen as a whole being and nothing less.

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