I can’t give you , me.
As much as I love love.
As much as I want to be loved.
I can’t give you, me.
To the world, I am a strong woman.
I am the cliff that men train to hike,
I am the oak tree that stands after the hurricane,
I am the earth that lies beneath your feet,
And you think you can walk all over it.
But the moment it shakes you are wiped out,
Like a tiny speck on the face of the moon.
I am Maya Angelou’s phenomenal woman,
I am the one that gives Trump nightmares,
The one that was once tagged as a witch.
And in some century the suffragettes.
To the world, I am all that.
But to the man, I love, not that at all.
When I am in love,
I am like the drop of wax slowly and gracefully,
Trembling down the lengths of a candle,
Warm but soft and crushed by the tip of the man’s finger.
As a woman in love,
I am the tiny speck hiding in the pollen of a sunflower,
As the sun gives it light, so it owns the power to burn it.
Love makes me care, love makes me give you my all,
And if I give you me, I will love you that way.
Love you more than you ever imagined and
Be there for you more than you deserve.
Going an extra mile after 5000 extra miles is my thing.
Unlucky for you, I have been there done that.
Traveled those miles, been crushed and burnt and broken.
Now, when you say the word love,
I hear my bones cracking like you’ve already started
To tighten your grip on my fragility
And when you say ‘commitment’
I feel my existence withering away in gray ashes.
And when you say ‘relationship’
I crumble like a hard rock sliding down a cliff.
It’s not you, it’s those words.
Those exact words men used before you and
That makes me wonder
Why would you be any different?
I know its foolish to give up on love.
As they say, when one bus goes…
But what if the buses keep coming but none of them is the right one.
I may sound like a coward to you,
Like a hopeless, powerless, weak woman.
Too afraid to put herself out there.
Too scared to just ‘get on with life’.
The fact is- I am different.
I have a history and I have been at places you cannot imagine.
When I love someone, I give them a weird sense of control over me.
I swear its not voluntary, its like air.
People have used that to my disadvantage very well.
To humiliate me, harass me, crush me and dehumanize me.
And now that I know how delicate it is,
I rather guard it myself.
You are human after all, and I am afraid,
Knowingly or unknowingly if someday
You decide to use it as a weapon on me,
I may not find back the strength
To put the pieces back together,
Not all broken mirrors can be fixed.
Sometimes the shards are too sharp and cut too deep.
If you watched the latest episode of The Mindy Project, you’d know where I am going with this.
The writers took an excellent shot at showing what white male privilege looks like and how our society functions around it.
This episode reminded me of my experiences as a woman of color.
In the last three years, I got to the final round of 3 job interviews.
THE FIRST JOB AS A LECTURER
The first case was in a local college, teaching Business studies to under grad students. I won’t name the college to spare them the shame.
You know the pre-interview time when candidates hang out in the waiting lounge? The 3 finalists were a white man, a white woman and me, a woman of color.
We got to speak a little before the interview started.
The white lady was a school teacher and had never taught at that level and specially not Business.
The white man was an ex army man and had never done any teaching in his life. He told that the only time when he studied Business was in his own school days.
Then the third candidate was me; a PhD fellow in Business with 5 years of university level teaching experience.
SURPRISE SURPRISE- The white guy got the job.
You might say I am bitter because I didn’t get the job. OK, let’s talk about the second.
THE SECOND JOB AT AN AWARD WINNING IT STARTUP IN THE UK
This is one of the most famous startups in the UK and in my job application, in some question box, I pointed out their company looks great in the videos but there seems to be no diversity. They should look into it.
They invited me for an interview.
One of the 3 white women that interviewed me, was……….. A FUCKING SWIMMING COACH! She didn’t even have a diploma or a certificate in Business and she was interviewing me.
I spent 2 days traveling for the interview, 3 months wasted in several rounds of their interview stages…and filling tons of forms and answering all sorts of questions.
THE RESULT you ask? They hired a male dude with a minor in Business and no experience as the consultant that was MANDATORY in their job description.
THE THIRD I DON’T EVEN WANT TO TALK ABOUT CAUSE ITS THE SAME PATTERN OF STUPIDITY.
I seriously don’t want to be hired because I am a minority woman but I don’t want to be neglected because of that either.
I saw over social media where this one prominent YOUTUBER (white woman) was saying how “women complain so much and if they have so much problem with hiring systems and wage gap then why don’t they go their own way, start their own fucking business or something” I quote.
You see; it’s not that easy.
Not all women have the resources to do that.
I am not even allowed to do anything on my own in the UK because I don’t have the required visa for that. Formal employment under someone else is the only way the country allows me.
What can I do unless a company sponsors my visa?
White male privilege is something I have witnessed too closely and I want to thank the Mindy Project for taking on this hot subject.
Hope you had a rocking Women’s Day. I sure did. Here is my speech:
Hey lovely readers,
I’m starting PODCASTS!!! Yayyyyy
Here’s the first one.
Let me know your thoughts about the movie.
Hey lovely people,
Happy Valentine’s Day to all of you.Yes, each and every single one of you.
I made a series o videos to help you make the most of your SOLO VALENTINES DAY.
Please share your V DAY CELEBRATIONS in the comments.
Let’s LOVE ourselves this VDAY.
You know who I am talking about.
The ones that look down upon women fighting for womenkind.
The ones that say “oh noooo, I can’t march on Saturday, it’s my club and bowling time”.
The ones that cry for safety but do not have time to fight for it.
Oh, and my favorite ones…
That say “I’m not the feminist kind”, like gender equality is a crime.
That show their ugly privilege by saying “low wage? Just start a fucking business”!
Or that “men and women are equal but feminist I’m not” (#Facepalm).
The ones that growl when grouped in public but don’t raise an eyebrow on child gang rapes.
The ones calling Gloria Steinem, Ashley Judd and Madonna, white drama queens;
Emphasizing that only third world women suffer while first world women have perfect lives.
The ones that do not recognize that ‘standing up’ inspires a chain reaction of resistance.
Oh, oh and the ladylike ones are the best too.
The ones that ask “marching in public? Don’t you fear being dumped or raped or killed?”
The ones that ‘don’t see the point’ despite suffragettes shining in history books.
The ones that raise another generation of sexists, racists and classists.
It’s OK, I get it; you are too busy to participate in social change.
I respect your right to stay home, no judgments.
But when I don’t judge you, you have no right to tag me as ‘feminazi’ either.
Because the streets you walk in, are paved by my feminist sisters’ blood.
And wanting a safer world for your daughter is not the same as cooking Jews in gas chambers.
Maybe one day, your daughter will tell you the difference. (That’s if you decide to have one and didn’t commit foeticide.)
Or your son, you’d listen to him, right?