Hi guys! What's your problem? How women dress How are you concerned? Whether they wear Torn pants Torn jeans None of your business You've poor mental hygiene Chief Minister? And you talk like this Were you and your daughters Born with clothes God sent you all naked Primitive man Like you wasn't fake Clothes originated Protecting your bodies Hostile environment Slaves of baser instincts Now for hiding their weaknesses Sanskara don't lie In your clothes But in your brains Etiquette evolved over time By the society Dominated by males Must go Unshackle women And set them free
A Chief Minister criticizes publicly a well educated woman for wearing jeans ripped at knees.
I lay here and stare at the stitching in my new hat made in Bangladesh. There are few other things I know about this country. I imagine the sewing machines and brown fingers and faces working to get by. Some, I imagine, with mopeds. I imagine the teams of fabric. The spools of thread. Sewing on a tag that they may not be able to read. Amongst the tropic-like weather. Annual income less than what I make in a month. That's about what my paper route paid: $600/year.
I'm manufactured like hand-me-down clothes. Worn at the seams though I'm not old. Elastic stretched out, zipper caught on its own track, my buttons won't snap. The threads at my knees tear revealing scarred skin that won't disappear.
But I can roll the hems, unlatch the zipper, replace the buttons. And truthfully, I like the look of jeans with rips at the knees so what if it reveals me?
I wear the clothes of my mother and sisters what they loved is now mine to claim for it doesn't quite fit them anymore and perhaps some seams ripped but that I can fix so it will fit me.
The clothes I wear may not be new and hold old hopes that won't come true but it holds old love too.
Kissing your door knobs Trying to find your light switch When I am with you I am home As soon as I come in you strip off all my clothes And let me know I am welcome here When I am with you I am an unlocked door Anything that is mine is yours The currents the drapes The window into a past from which I try to escape When we step into the shower And wash the world from each others backs I want you to be the only thing that takes their place We lay in bed and hum like microwaves Till ceiling fan finally falls asleep
We use makeup and clothes as an armor. We use makeup to cover our scars; We dress up to look confident and strong. We use it differently; Some used it to make themselves more beautiful; Some used it to protect themselves from getting bullied, mock and etc. Not just by using makeup and clothes as an armor, But we should also use who we truly are as an armor. Never forget about your true selves just because you use makeup and clothes as an armor, But we should also embrace and love ourselves for who we truly are. Covering up scars and dressing up to look confident and strong is just a quality of our armor ; But what we really have as an armor is ourselves.