Friday, April 24, 2015

Feminist - To be or not to be!

Note - I really liked the Rebecca Cohen cartoon on feminism. Had to share it.

A friend (lets call him that) told me the other day, that he doesn't "like" or "comment" on my facebook posts, because he doesn't like to promote feminism. Really? A feminist??? Is that what I get tagged as, for writing about rapes and love in "just" facebook???.

When I hit 29 on my age chart, suddenly it occurred to me that I had done nothing with my life. I have a functional, happy family. I believe being a stay at home mum requires colossal flair and expertise. But whether I possessed all that was required, I wasn't sure and even if I did, I wanted to work. I wanted to hatch from the safe haven of my home.

As ingrate as it makes me, I realized that if I were to die the next day, I would be a dead one in despair. Death is already so morbid, do I need more woes on top of it? A dead me deserves more. So I decided to do something about it. Find a job for example and more importantly to stop blaming anyone for anything that goes wrong with my life. Thats what I did. My perforated brain was only used to taking in what was preached to it, be it on love, life, relationships or what not. But the cold immigrant air of the Americas did have its charm. My ever so bored brain started to think for itself and it resonated on everything I did, talked and wrote about. But how does that ever make me a feminist? In fact, if anything its, just the opposite... When I think about how socially, politically and economically equivalent women are to men, I also realize how emotionally disparate men and women are or at least how emotionally covetous I am. 

Yes, I am a feminist, a feminist who can not outlive a man's love.

Monday, April 20, 2015

Another day, another night

It's 11.30pm. I'm sleepy, yet with a quick beating heart (I don't know why) I'm scared of going to bed. More than many things, sleep worries me these days--The dreadful long hours I lay on my bed, musing about things important and irrelevant. Then finely, when I drift off to sleep, my dreams that possibly wake me up with a weary heart and worked up brain. When will sleep again be a less dreadful deal for me, I wonder. This wasn't how anything was supposed to be. The victories were to sweep the dusted antiques off my path. While the stubborn dust clings on, I wish for sweetness to my triumphs and deepness to my sleep. My hearts gains its momentum as I speak.