I'ts been a long time coming. Don't seem to find the time to sit and write things down. General things really but, they've been nagging me for quite a while and I wish to finally let them out. After all, writing has always been my vent.
I'm beginning to judge women who aern't feminists. How can you not be? How can you get used to something thats so infinitely unfair, so obviously unjust and so painfully perminent. It is because you are born in those chains that you are unable to see? Are you unsure as to what it might mean if you stood up for your rights? What rights? whose rights? The only thing you will see in the eyes of justice is laughter and you will hear it say 'human rights are for humans. Stop wasting my time.' Ironic how the statues on every judges table is that of a blindfolded woman holding the balance.
Everytime you feel a wrong has been done to you, do you die a little inside, untill you have completely departed and are marely a hollow shell who has thrown away her dreams like letters from a boy you once loved. Do you crush your heart in your palm and put a stopper in your brain when you yourself blame a woman for a crime she hasn't committed? Does every woman forget? Do they all die inside? Do they not wish to give their daughters a better life? Do they not wish for things to change? And yet we are running in circles. We are silent spectators. We have become guilty of the crime we had to fight against. We are teaching our daughters to close their eyes and stop dreaming. We are but like a begger tapping on the men's car's windows. A short lived inconvenience that goes away once you ignore it. We need to become a noise, a shout, a scream.
I wonder why women don't wish to let go of their little heaven in the kitchen to go out and work. Some don't get the permission because their men can't allow a loosening of control, even if the family is financially crumbling. Others lack enough education to get a decent job. But there are those who don't fit into these categories and yet are sitting at home, wasting their capabilities. They proudly work in the kitchen and discourage their sons and husbands to lend a hand (when they rarely do decide to do something themselves). I believe women feel like queens in their kitchens. It's the one place where they are sure they know more then the men in the house. But these women feel they belong in the house, even when their children have grown up. What a waste. I wonder what other utterly unproductive and senselessly irrational things can become a part of our beliefs if they are taught from an early age. Actually I don't wonder, I know.
If being a feminist is believing in the notion that women are not doormats, then by all means i'm one. I am a man-hater, not because all men are born assholes, but because they are too busy enjoying a status higher then women that they conform to traditions without bothering as to what the consequences are. I'm too moderate a feminist to even give men the small amount of credit I do give. I wonder if, in the baking heat of Pakistani summers, they think about us women everytime they wear shorts. Obviously not.
One of these days I wish to stop waxing my arms and legs. I hope I find enough courage in myself to block all the 'yucks' and 'ewws' thrown my way. All women reading this, think about it for a minute. What benefit do you achieve from going through enormous amounts of pain every 20, 25 days? It's not like a one time painful procedure which will rid you of hair. NO. They will grow back. every month. again and again. You will bear the pain and waste money every month. The wax will burn your skin and you will clench your teeth. Yet, you will sit through it again, happily. Why? For what? Just so that men think you look better? The women who say 'it makes me feel good and clean', sit down and think about where that feeling comes from. So tomorrow, if men tell you to chop your arm off because you look sexy, will you do it? How convenient that men 'look great natural' and we have to thread our eyebrows, wax our entire bodies just so that they can tell us how great we look. Puck that.
