The ****** of the east and west,
At Your recovery we all rest,
Lord is merciful but the people are not.
Clocks tick and the days goes by,
I'm afraid that you will never be forgotten.
The west will dangle you
Before the eyes of thousands.
For all the thousand things they want
Your agendas are quite right I'm afraid,
Perhaps they thought metal was the answer.
They were afraid as well.
Showed, praised and written about,
Cherished and awarded.
Our dear malala.
I can't help think,
Perhaps you're a puppet
And west the clever puppeteers.
Brave as you are,
I know for sure now that
You don't stand a chance.
Life might be short but it seems like an eternity.
For change is what you want,
You don't reside with the enemy,
You don't accept their awards.
When a government can't assure us change,
What chance do you stand with your words,
For you are just a girl with a bullet hole.
And half this country is drowned in illiteracy.
Brace yourself sweetheart,
Cause you are just another girl,
Where millions others are fighting a real fight,
All you do is befriend the woeful west.

One child, one teacher, one book and one pen can change the world.

I raise up my voice -- not so that I can shout, but so that those without a voice can be heard.

Malala Yousafzai

Such wisdom from one so young
Such clarity for the truth
Such bravery in the face of danger

Dare we place upon these shoulders
the heavy burden of hope, expectation?

Already your name will live for ever

"THIS PICTURE WILL NOT CHANGE THE WORLD, BUT I STILL NEED FEMINISM AND I’M GOING TO REALLY, REALLY TELL YOU WHY":

-Because I got called a ***** for wearing a short plaid skirt when I was 10

-and because when Nujood Ali from Yemen was 10 she got divorced

-Because black girls’ names became my classmates’ favorite “joke” when I was 11

-and because when an 11-year-old girl in Texas was ***** by 18 men the New York Times wrote of how the girl “dressed older than her age”

-Because I started counting calories when I was 14

-and because when Malala Yousafzai was 14 she was shot in the head for trying to go to school

-Because I heard a boy greet a girl with “hey ****” today at age 16
-and because when a 16-year-old girl in Steubenville, Ohio was filmed being ***** by two boys at a party while unconscious the CNN reporters talked about how tragic it was because the rapists had such bright futures as athletes

-Because I will have to watch my drink at all bars and parties when I am 22

-and because when CeCe McDonald was 22 she was sentenced to 41 months in prison for defending herself against a man who screamed transphobic, racist insults at her and then slashed her face with a bottle

-Because no matter what age I am the biggest threat to men will still be heart disease, and the biggest threat to women will still be men.

-Because it is not just about me, because it is not just about anger, because it is not just a JOKE, because it is not just about “hating men,” because it is not just about girls with vaginas, because it is not just about ending “****”, because it is not just about white straight girls in Rookie magazine, because it is not just about writing on backs, because it is not just about the fact that gay men are “****” but lesbians are “hot,” because it is not just about pictures of thin white girls being the only google image results for the search phrase “beautiful women”, because it is not just about writing signs, because it is not just about what she was wearing or how many times she said yes before she changed her answer to no, because misogyny is not just about one thing and feminism is not just about one thing and it is not just “a trend” and it will not “happen” in just one way.

-And because yes. It is about equality for EVERYONE, but first and foremost it needs to be about equality for girls, because they are not treated equally to men, in every single sense, and you are not going to take feminism away from me and call me bossy/hostile/aggressive and make this about yourself or make it into a joke, because truth be told, I’m not joking and I’m tired of explaining. If you want to call yourself a feminist, you work hard to spread feminism, you do not turn this into a contest of whose struggle is greater and constantly demand to know what you can get out of feminism personally. Feminism is not just about you, or me, it is about everyone. If you’re male and you’re tired of men being stereotyped as hyper-masculine, soulless, sexist, inherent leader-tyrant creatures, then go out and prove the patriarchy wrong and fight for girls, like someone with a soul who believes in equality would. Then, yes, feminism will be about everyone.


- http://crystallized-teardrops.tumblr.com/post/81364478634/wearethefourthwave-this-picture-will-not -

Pen scratches the paper
Paper flutters in the breezes
Voice shouts
Suddenly a gun fires
The Taliban have their guns
In my hand I have my pen
On my desk I have my paper
Loudly my voice speaks up
Go ahead
Shoot me
I won't stop fighting
You can take my pen
Take this paper from my hands
You won't take my voice though

Dumaan saglit sa bilihan ng damit
Kahit sakto ang dala ay aking pinilit
Pagkat pawis ay malala dahil mainit
Sa pagkikitang ito lahat ay sulit.

Sa harap ng salamin maiging sinipat
Kung okay ang buhok at marapat
Konting talsik ng pabango sa kwelyo
Hindi muna ko maninigarilyo.

Upang ako'y perpekto sa pagdating
Lahat ay maayos sa iyong paningin,
hinahanap hanap ang 'yong awitin
Ng boses **** maliit ako'y bitin.

Nagmamadali at baka mahuli
Ayokong maghintay ka aking binibini
Kahit hasel sa lahat basta dumating
Sinira ang ipon para may pang sine.

Kamusta ka na? Kumain ka na ba?
Unti unting pinaplano ang sasabihin.
Sa paglalakad ako'y napapaisip
Ano ang uunahin, saan papupuntahin

Sa di kalayuan aking nakita
Maamo at maaliwalas **** mukha
Sabay nagising sa katotohanan
Sa noo ko ay biglang pinawisan.

Nang biglang nauntog sa totoo
Na ito ay panaginip lamang
Hawak ang lakas ng loob
Napalunok at parang..

Nabilaukan sa pagkakita
Sa kamay **** may humawak
Sa di bandang kalayuan
Pumatak ang luha ng uwak

At sabay bati ng kamusta
Habang hagkan ka at yapos
Ako ay kinakain ng sistema
Ng matinding pagseselos

At binalewala ang pagpapakilala
Sa kasama mo'y ikaw'y hinayaan
Sigaw ng puso'y nagaklas
Batid na "Dapat ako ang nandiyan".

Ang gusto ko yung lalaking matipuno
Yung pagbubuksan ako ng pinto
Yung umaga pa lang pumupunta na rito
Tsaka dapat binabati niya magulang ko
Isama mo na rin buong pamilya’t kamag anak ko
Grabe ang lakas maka pogi non
Lalo na kapag binibilhan ako ng wanton
Yun kasi yung paborito ko
Kaya nakakakilig pag kilala ka ng lalaki nang todo
Ganun yung tipo ko
Simple lang at magalang
Madasalin at mapagmahal sa magulang
Isa lang
Isa lang ang hinihintay ko at alam kong ikaw yun.
Yung taong bubuo ng mga pangarap natin
At tutupad sa mga binitawang salita sakin
Ikaw yun
Ang yayakap sakin kapag malungkot ako
At pag kailangan ko ng makikinig sa mga problema ko.
Ikaw yun.  Nung una. Akala ko nung una ikaw na yun.

Isang malaking pagkakamali lang pala.
Imahinasyon lang pala lahat ng ito
Ang lala
Nabiktima lang pala ako ng maling akala
At nadala sa pagbabago **** lagi akong umaasa
Kaya ayoko na

Ayoko nang pagbuksan ka ng pinto sa tuwing lalabas tayo
Ayoko nang habulin ka pag nauuna kang maglakad at ikaw pa yung may ganang magalit
Ayoko nang paulit ulit ipaalala sayo na batiin mo mga magulang ko pag nakikita mo
Ayoko nang magtiis pa diyan sa katamaran mo dahil pagod na ako.
Nagsasawa na ako sa paulit ulit na salitang binibigkas mo pero di naman totoo.
Dahil ang totoo, hindi naman tumutugma sa mga kilos mo.
Ikaw na ang sentro ng relasyong to.
Sa halip na ako ang yakapin mo dahil malungkot ako, ako ang yumayakap sayo.
Hindi ako makapagsabi ng problema mo dahil sinisingitan mo nang mas malala yung problema mo.
Lagi ka na lang nagagalit kapag may kausap ako.
Pero pag ikaw yung may kausap, nagagalit ba ako?
Wala na sa lugar yung pagseselos mo.
Lahat na lang ng makausap ko pinaghihinalaan mo.
Ang toxic na ng relationship na to.
Kaya gusto ko na tapusin kung ano man ang meron tayo.
Natauhan ako na ako na pala ang gusto ko.
Ako pala yung hinahanap ko.
Pero kailangan ko ng taong parang ako.
Yung mamahalin ako tulad ng pagmamahal ko sayo.
Saan ba ako makakahanap ng taong katulad ko?

to be vulnerable
is to be fearless.
to accept the gift
of salty tears dripping
down your throat.

the twitch in your
lips when you speak
from the deep gates
inside of your mind.

i want to be fearless
i grow in it everyday.

i thought you liked
your girls fearless.
you love anne frank,
and you love malala,
you love the black sheep.
i thought you would like
me.

i thought once the gates
of my vulnerability swung
open, you'd keep going in.

you stopped and left
footprints trailing toward
the entryway. maybe it
was too scary for you to
explore?

sometimes i am
scared of it too.

Where are the Eleanors
And Godivas riding
In power and insight,
With spirit and mystique.
They aren't in jewelry
Or splashed on jeans.
Vishti refused to attend
Her drunken Lord;
She is no mirror for Isabella,
So inexperienced in love.
Anne H. fought for liberty,
Bella likes to shake blonde ringlets
On her shoulders;
The nervous Anastasia,
The clumsy Swan,
So modest
And ill-spoken
With downcast eyes.
Katniss is no Palla Athena
Or Garibaldi, though there's promise.
They are bound, timid heroines.

Malala never shot an arrow,
But spoke like Rosa, like Golda.
Yet, your childish sword-bearers
Are still desired by the men
They encounter;
Not as Susan B was courted.
Do they understand
How the chase ends,
These self-depricating heroines.

here’s
what they don’t tell you in sunday school.
no matter if you make it to heaven or hell,
you could still be sitting next to the elementary school shooter
depending on whether or not he prays
to the right god.

my father always said
that if he meets jesus, he’ll apologize.
“sorry,
man I didn’t know. if it’s any consolation,
I believe in you now.”

two weeks ago
a friend grabbed my steering wheel
and she turned me into the next lane.
she believes in god
more than she believes in saying sorry.

if I ever prove her wrong and
meet god, I’ll ask him
if he watches over malala
and why he had to let
those three children
get hit with a semi truck on the way home from the fair.
giving their parents triplets
of the same gender as before
wasn’t good enough
even if oprah called it a miracle.

we always tell each other
that the murderers are going
to h-e-double hockey sticks.
is this wishful thinking?
are we just incapable
of picturing adolf with a pair of angel wings?

even if I didn’t know it then,
these thoughts
might just be the reason
that I used to get panic attacks
when I thought about heaven.
I’ve always been a restless soul
and being stuck somewhere forever
was never
my style.

PWEDING MALA SUTLA O MAGASPANG NA TELA,
GANYAN ANG MGA ALA-ALA,
MINSAN MALALA MINSAN NAWAWALA.
MGA PAGTITIWALA AT PANINIWALA,
LAHAT AY DAPAT NA MASALA,
GANITO HINAHABI ANG HIBLA NG MGA ALA-ALA,
PARA MERON KANG MAPALA.
NAGBABAG ANG DALAWANG KUMAG,
MGA KUTONG LUPA NA PURO HAMPAS LUPA.
HAMBUGAN ANG DAHILAN NG UMBAGAN,
PAREHONG DUGUAN MATAPOS ANG BUGBUGAN,
ITO ANG HIBLA NG KABATAAN.
SA ESKUWELA KAILANGAN MO RIN MAGING MAKUWELA,
KUNG AYAW MO’NG MAGMUKHANG GUMAMELA.
HINDI LAHAT NG MATALINO AY PINO,
MERON DIN MAASIM NA PARANG PIPINO,
AT HINDI PORKE BOBO AY PARA NG LOBO,
GANITO ANG BUHAY ESTUDYANTE.
UMIIBIG HABANG UMIIGIB?
PWEDE NAMAN SABAY,
DEPENDE SA ARTE,
KAILANGAN LANG NG DISKARTE.
WALA PANG INTERNET SA TINDAHAN NI ALING NANNETH,
WALANG CELLPHONE PERO MAY MEGAPHONE,
PWEDE **** ISIGAW NA MAHAL MO S’YA.
KUNG MALUPIT KA EDI LUMAPIT KA,
KUNG TORPE KA EDI SUMULAT KA.
GANITO ANG LABANAN NOONG WALA PANG FB AT CP,
HIBLA NG KASIBULAN.
GRADUATE NA,
KAYA TRABAHO NA,
APLAY DITO APLAY DOON,
WALANG HUMPAY ANG PAGSISIKAP.
HAPAY-KAWAYAN,
KAHIT SAAN SUMASAMPAY.
HIBLA NG BUHAY EMPLEYADO.
TILA ITLOG NA ESTRALYADO NANG MAGING PAMILYADO.
PAKIRAMDAM KO BUO NA AKO,
SINTAMIS NG KAHEL ANG DULOT NG DALAWANG ANGHEL,
ITO HIBLA NG KASALUKUYAN.

the year opened on two kinds of olympics:
Sochi and selfie.

we spent months looking for
one missing plane
276 missing girls,
and 43 missing students.

from Ukraine to Mexico,
Palestine to Venezuela,
to Ferguson,
the front of the battle lines
were crammed full.

their stories captivated us,
their movements motivated us.

we snapchatted, we vined and instagrammed,
we remembered their names.

Malala Yousafzai
to Mike Brown.
Eric Garner to Ebola.

we made some friends
and some enemies.

and I think,
when I look back,
years from now,
at the year 2014,
the first thing to come to mind will be,
"I was there."

weep not as men we are no longer
fled of even the semblance smallest
better now rip out that heart throbbing
put it in the gun,yes,it may think,not fire!
like my child Malala,saved by an angel automatic!
tear out the brains and give it to the bullets fiery
they may veer away thinking kindly, ashamed of us men!

Darling,
You were born in the vision of Clara Barton
In the success of Joan of Arc and Malala
In the memory of Anne frank
You were born for greatness
And for remembrance
You were born for more than you will be given
You were born for weightlessness
But given legs of stone to keep you from flying too high
Born with a heart of gold
Painted bronze
You
Were born for beauty
For Mona Lisa’s smile
But felt like Picasso
Rearranged and imperfect

Darling I hate to tell you
But you will never be treated equally to men
I’ve been told I’m stupid because I’m a girl
And I've held the door at gas stations for men who called me baby
And told me I'd be prettier if I smiled
Men will always look at you like property
Like they are owed a piece of you just for existing
Like you're too gentle to fend for yourself
But darling I have news for you
You belong to no one but yourself
You were born in the vision of Clara Barton who never wed
In the success of Joan of arc
Who was only 17 when she was commander of a French army
And Malala who was only 17 when she won the Nobel peace prize for saying words that could have killed her
Anne frank was 16  when she was murdered
Do you think she was thinking of what she owed men?
No. She took a hammer to her legs of stone and peeled the paint from her heart of gold
She was the Mona Lisa's smile
She changed the world
And darling you can do the same
Break through the stone and the bronze
And be the Mona Lisa

But darling
If someone tells you you aren’t smart
Or a stranger tells you you'd be prettier if you smiled
And you start to feel rearranged and imperfect
Remember
Picasso made art too.

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.
Cleopatra did.
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.
Malala did.
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.

balik-tanaw. limang taong gulang.
tapos na maghabulan, magtayaan.
pagod na ang lahat at ang natitira na lamang
ay magkwentuha't mag-asaran bago magsiuwian.

"wala mga daddy niyo sa daddy ko", sigaw ng aking kalaro,
"nagpapalipad siya ng mga eroplano".
manghang-mangha kami habang nagkukwento siya
at may hawak pang eroplanong papel.

"pero 'di papatalo si itay", sabi naman ng isa pa,
"sa Saudi siya nagtatrabaho kaya lagi akong may bagong laruan".
bilang ganoon pa kabata, 'di namin mapigilan mainggit.
sino ba namang hindi kung laruan ang binabanggit?

pinagyabang ko siyempre ang aking ama.
"pulis ang tatay ko". sabay humugis ng baril
gamit ang mga kamay.
basang-basa ang mga ito dahil sa pawis.
mga palad na makaraan ang isang dekada't kalahati
ay nalulunod na sa pagiging pasmado o marahil sa kaba
dahil sino ba'ng 'di matatakot sa pulis

ngayon?

nalaman namin na hindi nagpalipad ng eroplano
yaong daddy ng kalaro namin.
flight attendant siya. marangal na trabaho.
nagtrabaho nga sa Saudi ang itay ng kalaro pa naming isa
subalit kalaunang bumalik sa 'Pinas dahil pagod na.

kahit ano pa mang trabaho iyan o kung saan,
nakasisindak isiping nakatira ka sa iisang bubong
kasama ang isang mamamatay-tao.
ang malala ay isa siya noon sa mga pinaka-tinitingila ko.

tunay ngang mabilis ang pag-ikot ng mundo
kung ang nasa poder ay baluktot ang prinsipyo.
biktima tayong lahat na pumapailalim
sa mga nagmamataas na sakim at gahaman.
bakit magtataka sa kasulukuyan
kung mas masahol pa sa kriminal
ang puwersang kapulisan?

I am a teddy bear made from loosely sewn together patches of cardigans passed
You are a warrior trapped inside a glass jar full of butterflies they sewed inside of my stomach.
You, warrior, hunt monarch dragons from the backs of black bears draped in the patchworked wings of fallen enemies
You are iridescent in the sun that pierced through the holes in my slipped stitch skin
You have woven a basket from antennae and leaf stems you found on the ground
Lassoed the last of the mourning cloaks and tied them to your basket
And like a butterfly air balloon you rose
Rose
Saw the battle ground below you
Flew towards the light above you
From within your winged chariot you directed your flock out of the mason jar home they sewed you inside of me
Saw all the butterflies you once drove away fluttering aimlessly
And drove them once again towards the space between my seams
They pushed against my fabric
They pushed against my thread
And they burst forth, scattered, iridescent in the sun a kaleidoscope of butterflies in the sun
My skin fell to pieces covered in stuffing on the floor
The jar shatter echoed off the walls
And I was a boy
And you were Malala Yousafzai
And I was in love
And you were warrior
And I dreamed of a life with you
And you dreamed of freedom
And I reached for you
And you kept flying
And I waved goodbye
And you, warrior, did not look back

On the backs of the women before us
Stands legacy and triumph,
Women like Anna Komnene  
Who saved her father’s reputation, knew the classics,
And supervised hospitals,
Proving you can be royalty and brilliant,
Empress Wu,
The only known empress in early Chinese history,
Who challenged the norms for women liberation,

On the backs of the women before us,
Are the Roasies,
The strong women who joined industry and steel during World War 2,
Doing a man’s job,
Showing women have muscle,
A group known as the night witches
Women who bombed ****’s in the darkest hours,
Showing women can fight,

On the backs of the women before us,
Sacajawea,
Who at 16 trekked the mid-west with Lewis and Clark with a baby on her back,
Proving women can endure,  
Kathrine Johnson,
Who proved to the world gender and color doesn’t matter,
Anyone can use mathematics for the growth of humanity,
Rosa Parks, who looked into the eyes of a white man,
And refused to give up her seat,
Proving that women can revolt,
Nellie Bly,
Who mothered investigative journalism,
Florence nightingale,
Who without her nursing wouldn’t have its roots,

On the backs of the women today,
Is Malala who at 15 was shot for standing up for a girl’s right for education,
Or Gretta Thunberg who at 17 is fighting for a greener earth,

On the backs of the women before us,
And on the backs of the women today,
Are women showing girls that tomorrow and the day after,
They can look into the eye of a man and say
Try me.. I’ll go far

La beauté est éphémère
Et passagère est ce qu'on voit
Ce n'est pas ça qu'on recherche chez une femme, ce n'est pas ça

Il est question de Grâce
Ma sœur appelle sa "Woman  of tomorrow "
Been a Queen
Tout femme naît princesse, mais elle doit se transformer en reine

C'est ça qu'on recherche chez une femme Cette royauté est acquise avec la maturité
Et une double couronne est en jeu
Puisqu'on dit :
Une femme en talon est certes élégante, belle ou ...
Mais une femme à genou est plus Puissante
Tous les Combat se gagnent dans la prière
Elle devient une reine pour Jesus

Je dédie ce poème à ma MÉMÉ, car en l'écrivant j'ai reconnu la vérité dans ces paroles de Malala Yousafzai 
Je cite : il y a deux Puissances celle de l'épée et celle du bic, mais il y a une 3e plus Puissante que les premières, la Puissance d'une femme

Une femme est forte
Courageuse et Brave 
Elles incarnent la Bravoure des plus Valeureux Chevaliers de l'histoire
Elles inspirent l'humanité

On rend hommage au Reines de notre histoire pas aux princesses
Elles marquent notre Histoire et la parsèment d'une saveur agréable qu'on ne serait pas décrire

Ces reines
Descente d'esprit d'âme et de corps
Sans complexe de supériorité étouffant ni d'infériorité agaçante
C'est d'elles que je parle la 

On dit que personne n'est parfait.
Mais je me dis que si les défauts d'une personne n'égalent pas son bon côté
Et qu'elle est toujours prête à s'améliorer
Pourquoi ne pas dire qu'elle est parfaite

Ma mère, la mienne est une Reine-Parfaite
Love you mum 
La mienne

Mandela standing
Fist raised
Gandhi laughing
Malala smiling
Children playing
The buzz of nature
Growing unfettered
A roar of voices
Ripped free from constraint
Sunlight
Multicoloured
A rush of wind against my body