Womanity

If only I could flip back the pages of every passing years to reach back around 2 decades, alomst in the year when I first breathed in air besides fellow humans, when one more human was registered for the day to be earth's mortal piece for an uncertain phase dangling on the idea of how long she  could manage breathing here.. Managing to breathe was never an issue. But liking was, hope was, love was.

I thought I was born a human and indeed I was but lest I knew was that I can't be treated humanely.
No, I didn't tell them,in fact, I was a poor meek thing who could at best cry, cry at her fate? Cry at her genitals, which explicitly peeked into them and loudly screamed into their ears, already wide awake. There's no humanity in my cause, there is womanity and I'm a woman, an underprivileged category of human, subsided by men, the other but more privileged category. 

But, I always thought of myself as a human and not specifically woman. Not that I was ashamed of being a woman or I felt guilty, not even did I thought it of those past life sins for which you gotta pay for in this life, like mum always told me with rosaries in her praying hands and with those weary eyes ready to dodge anytime but brimmed with holy thoughts. AlI I could see through them were prayers for my eccentric mind and good luck peeking through them. It was a sense of comfort, a sense of safeguard from those bulging discomfort arising from appalling portrayal of what a woman is, what she ought to be by the people around, mostly a result of age old mansplaining. It tore my courage to shreds, it reduced my tiny  hope to hollowness, it cut short my breathe equivalent to that of mice. I thought I could do better, could breathe more if I think of myself as a human.

A woman as they say, is calm, soothing like fresh air, meek like an insect, obedient like a pet ( bitch, if it suits u) , tamed to walk even in air, caring like a nanny or nurse, apathetic to hurt and ego, for decent woman doesn't held the cuffs of self esteem in their hand coz it would only bind them and not men. If u lost track, I must remind u , she needs to be loving, seducive, amorous, some heavenly prixy for the unknown  hands she is tied to. Who cares if she likes it or not, she ought to do that some way. The thing is, her man should and there is a huge possibility that  the man could be a broad day light demon, a dumbheaded fanatic, maybe something similar to a lecherous bonobos and in smaller cases, if she's lucky enough could turn out to be a nice man. Now, that's only luck and it doesn't count until it happens and she has to cope up with anyone she's tied to.

A woman speaks less, not more than a few terse, mugged up words showing utter obeisance which could hardly be heard but could be traced from the gesture of her lips, tightly cemented on one another as if they were inseparable and weren't meant to speak. She should held the patience and demeanour of a sage, purely asexual, virginity should be traced from her hymen as well as from her coy strides and her shuddering hips. At the same time she should fake being fascinated and allured by the amourous strives of the man she is tied to and of course, above to all, she hasn't tasted the edge of womanhood, if she's not a mother. She's a poor thing if her womb betrayed .

Can I pause for a minute to tell, if this is what you call a woman then I goddamn doubt that I'm not the one. Maybe I look like one but you won't call me one.
Bang me with the scariest banters, I'll hit you back with the loudest jibes. Don't take me for a meek woman cause my teeth leaves the tongue and I spill the scaldiest thing out.
Does it make me any less of a woman?

What do u expect from a man whom you called hopeless romantic, a charmer, the one expert in alluring, then turn the tables for me. To tell you the kinkiest truth, I pout and I do smile back at men whom I like if they gave me those mixed signals, singnals, yes, what do you guys expect a girl to do with them? Watch? ignore? Well, in my case I'll play them back at you. So tell your woman if you have one coz neither do I know, nor I'm interested in, to not take me for a besotting witch coz you were a snake charmer too. It couldn't be always men will be men, tell her that women will be women too, that I'm not guilty alone.
Does it make me any less of a woman?

Sushi, cappuccino, vada, pancakes all for my culinary delights, yes, I'm learning them these days and don't confuse me with a pre wedding bride all prepared for being a post wedding maid.. To all the mothers, it 's not a pre wedding prep to be a devoted woman for your not too matured son ( as you think of him), whom you could have taught some Cs of the shore you want me to walk on and that too,barefooted. But fuck! He's not a woman.
Does that make me any less of a woman?

Forget about the Eiffel and the great China walls, my dreams sore whoppingly high like a kite till the neck of the space and I swear with that bleeding vagina, maybe I couldn't climb high but it would be higher than the height of your shooting stars.
Does that make me any less of a woman?

Moving the cradle to and fro, freaking out of child birth won't tremble my self esteem, not even could they crumble the valour left in my still aching stomach. Don't forget the woman who fought with a child tied closed to her bosom, don't forget the scary bloodbath she inflicted on the whites till she breathed her last.
I'm not an epitome of grace, serendipity nor the fable of any naive, docile, crumbled maiden who surrenders to the mansplaining.
I'm the folklore of the beast, the unchained desire of every restrained woman, the exaggeration of what a woman ought not to be, if there is any truth behind your mansplaining.
Does that make me any less of a woman?
No, the woman actually prevailed in me, outlived others who were suppressing it beneath your piles, coz I chose not to kill it, asked it to burn like a fume in me, ignite me like dreaded heaps on fire, so that to rise from the clutches of surrender.
I'm a woman now, not any less.

INSPIRED BY A YOUNG REBELLIOUS WOMEN CHARACTER FROM MIDDLE EAST ( talks about society not in general but of those societies where such instances could still be traced, where women are controlled but still they held disproportionate accountability for their act or anything which could probably happen to them)