Cinderella did not teach me stand up against the wrong.
She did not teach me to be strong.
Katniss Everdeen did.
Aurora did not teach me that I don't need a man.
She did not teach me I am independent just as I am.
Snow white did not teach me that real beauty has nothing to do with physical appearance.
She didn't teach me self love or acceptance.
Winnie Harlow did.
Ariel did not teach me to resist and fight.
She didn't teach me to raise my voice for what is right.
Ashley Graham gave me confidence.
Michelle Obama gave me inspiration.
Tris Prior taught me sacrifice.
Hermoine Granger showed me it's not only boys who can fight.
Nikita Gill taught me I am enough even without a man.
Joan of Arc showed me I can do anything he can.
Let's read to our girls stories of such badass, incredible, fierce and confident women.
Instead of stories where they are painted weak and can't do without men.
Let us teach them that they are powerful, they are strong.
And anyone who tells them different is wrong.
Let's read them stories of brave, heroic women instead of ones where they are shown weak and helpless.
Let's teach them to be warriors and not some princess.
Dedicated and inspired by all the strong, independent, fierce women out there! But mostly inspired by Nikita Gill's 'Fierce Fairytales'.
No matter how many we have diversities and
Nowadays they’re trying to tear us apart
We are all human at the end of the day.
We cry, we laugh and we love.
What really matters is our personalities that shape our heart.
Categorizing us depending on where we came from,
Putting us into categories and when we don’t fit them,
Calling out our names as ‘weird’ or ‘alien’.
Even deciding who to fall in love with instead of us.
Dreadful, dusty and rusty those minds are,
They think that everything should fit into their ‘categories’.
Don’t even know they that those categories don’t exist.
I will say this through poetry
The uyger, Turkish
We All have 46 chromesomes
Saying we are
H u m a n like youu
So why can you accept us
I walk the line
East and west
For I am
The people hate mme for that
I walk the line between
Love and racism
Of terroristic stereotypes
That a laid on my peoples
For I am uyger
Not a freaking terrorist
You don't know what being a girl is like!
You don't know the efforts of looking good every day.
You don't know the annoying fact nobody listens to what you say.
You don't know the feeling of noticing a leak between your legs.
Or bloodstains all over your pants.
Or the pressure to do something girly, like make-up and dance.
You don't know how it feels to be looked at.
When you like your legs wide open while you sat.
You don't know the aching of your hips, back and lower abdomen when it's full moon!
You don't know the cravings that come with it, and you stuff yourself t'ill noon.
You don't know how it feels to put a ****** in.
You don't know how insecure we've been.
You will never know and it's a sin...
But if you do know...
You don't know what being a boy is like!
You don't know the pressure of becoming tall.
You don't know the aching dissapointment, when you can't play ball.
You don't know what it's like to be expected to be able to walk alone at night.
Not being able to be scared, or talk about your fright.
No one will understand that boys can be hurt too at night.
You don't know what it's like to be frowned at if you cry with all your might.
You don't know what it's like to be insecure.
But not able to talk about what you feel for sure.
Having the pressure to grow the muscles and endure.
So you could fit in...
You will never know and it's a sin
But if you do know...
You know what it feels like to be different...
You never act like a boy,
or a girl,
You act neither,
let me give you some reminders:
You walk neither,
sway your hands in ambiguity,
don’t carry with you a briefcase or a feather duster –
the tone of your voice must be the interim of everything,
if it would have colors it must be colorless,
not dark navy nor shallow pink.
meaning you think without personality.
you don’t scatter petals prior the arguments,
nor you hide stringencies behind moon blasts –
You become neither –
you call no one man, nor woman woman,
you call every one neither –
So smile neither,
meaning you don’t smirk,
or coyly carve a canopy on your face,
You don’t want to offend anyone, do you?
Neither do I.
"Get home before it's too dark.
You cannot wear clothes like that in a public park!
When you're out, stick close to your friends.
And please for god's sake cover yourself!
Don't make eye contact with strangers.
Steer away from all those men, they are nothing but danger."
You taught me all this since I was a kid.
You taught me fear and corrected me in every single thing I did.
"It isn't his fault" you said "boys will be boys."
You silenced me all my life and not once did you let me raise my voice.
Why didn't you teach him to look at me in the right way?
Whatever wrong he did no one cared, he was forgiven straight away.
You always taught me he was a predator,
When you should have taught him that I am not prey.
Instead of teaching our daughters that men are predators let's teach our sons women are NOT prey.
That’s the thing about lived realities
They are not expectations
Nor stereotypes about cultures
They are the opposite of common knowledge
How about we document our life and get rid of these misconceptions?
The same questions
The same curious stares
The same judging tones
Just different continents
A road between them
In my old home
A sleeveless shirt?
Your legs are exposed?
An American accent,
Guess you’re not one of us anymore.
Must be a lot of school shootings, huh?
We’re working on it
In my new home
Why are you wearing that?
What’s on your forehead?
Why are you eating with your hands?
Speak English, you’re in America.
There’s a lot of open defecation, right?
We’re working on it
If only you listened
To each other
If only you realized
But similar you sound