Lifting The Petticoat

Lifting the Petticoat

Whenever a form to fill out is in front of me, I always need to tick that box next to F. Being a female is another form of identification. It is my permanent imprint in this world. It is my joy and at one point it was a curse when society thinks that being a woman is a disadvantage.

I believe in the empowerment of women and girl power. Yet I had my share of imprisonment as a child and as a growing woman.

The month of May of each year is a time I abhor. See, it was a time when I am obliged to accompany my grandmother to her daily novenas in the church. Do not get me wrong, I love her dearly but I hated the itchy, rough and uncomfortable petticoat that I had to wear. I am a complaining child but she reasons out that it gives my cute dress the much needed puff. I also saw it on other girls my age who painfully scratch their legs and alas! they get slapped on the wrist. Whenever I try to reach out under my skirt to scratch my thigh, I get those stares from people. Those stares connote you are displaying “unbecoming behavior”. It was a neon billboard sign that stopped me and then the two hours in the church became my own living hell. Today, I seldom wear a dress. Probably, the thought of that itchy fabric is still embedded in my psyche.

I would never forget my senior year in college. During that time, I was already honing my skill as a writer and poet. When our club president announced that a poetry contest was lined up as part of the activities for the university days, I was automatically invited to join. I do not see myself as a radical person or a follower. I just wanted to make my readers notice my work. One night in front of the computer, I wrote a poem entitled “Sex for the Very First Time.” I put my soul on that piece and the next day, I handed in my entry. The president loved it and immediately posted it on the hallway. As expected, the piece got attention. Students poured in the fourth floor of our building to read the controversial piece. I got numerous praises and of course, silly grins from the men. I liked the feeling that my piece made an impact on people. However, I unintentionally overlooked the impact on the university’s administration. I was summoned in the office and was made to sit in front of a panel. Swirls of thoughts like the inquisition, being accused of heresy and being burned at the stake plagued me. To cut the long chase, I was asked to make a choice. That was their term but to me I did not even have the time to explain my piece. Either I withdraw my entry or risk not graduating. I was young and fearful so I opted to surrender. I cried for days and the only consolation I had that my poem was stolen from the display board. The club president was apologetic but I just smiled. My poem made history. I was behind that history.

I watched a documentary in CNN about the plight of women in Afghanistan. In the middle of doing my lesson plan, I saw the faces of women battered by the brutal war. I could not understand the reason men in their society subject them to ridicule for being widowed and for wearing the burqa. These women beg for measly change in the streets endangering their lives and in addition, their children have slim chances of being educated. A poet was mysteriously murdered and the primary suspect was her husband. She was another casualty of the struggle of women to be heard. I had to fight the urge to throw a mug at my television. I am not thankful that I am not in their shoes but sadly I was losing hope for them. Something has to be done. The veil may have been lifted but the gates of freedom remains closed for these women.

I am making a niche in the city that never sleeps. It is tough here but I am able to express myself without fear of being persecuted. I write to my heart’s content about any topic my brain comes up with. I swim in the bliss of freedom which women ages ago fought and died for. In my heart, I aspire that women all over the world would be able to dive into the same water I am in.

 To my readers and viewers, I would like for you to share at least 5 of the most influential women in your life. 

I look forward to your responses.

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