Being A Girl

Malsa Maumoon, 11A

As a little girl,
My mother always reminded me of how lucky I was to be so,
And was taught to conform to the norm,
Pink attire,
Not blue,
Dresses and skirts,
No plaids or suits,
Remaining pure is the key,
Gaining independence,
Not for me,
“Dream big, go for it,”
They’d say,
“Stay home, clean.”
Actions convey.

So 10 years old,
And the boy next door,
Not a day older than me,
Played on the streets,
While I sat at home,
Watching away,
As elegance was the cliche.
“This is not luck,”
I would say,
“Being a girl is a curse, not a grace,”
Thoughts would portray.

Growing up,
Inequalities came alight,
Sexual harassment,
Day in, day out,
“Boys will be boys,”
They would say,
As he slams her against the wall,
And forcefully disregards her soul,
“Now, is being a girl so great?”
My mind would say.

But over time,
I came across
Stories of wonder,
Ideologies for the better,
A world where
Oprah, Rosa and Oakley,
Stood stronger than inequality,
The 21st Century,
When suffragettes claimed victory,
And feminism became the power,
With no room for repeat in history,
A day where
The hidden figures,
Were no longer concealed,
And with Oprah’s cries,
For a new day in the horizon,
I for once,
Gained hope that was lost before,
And was assured of the words my mother once spoke,
Of the luck behind the once loathed truth of being a girl.

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