~ Written in acknowledgment of International Women's Day 2021
I am a woman living day after day as a synonym for 'weak & fragile' until the calendar marks March 8th, when suddenly they all wish to be me and call me inspiring.
Thank you for the gift cards & promotional sales but...
...let me take you with me through my day, I only ask of you to listen.
The morning of March 8th, I open my eyes to a vanity full of overpriced hygiene products that I can barely afford with my poorly paid salary, while my husband grazes through his under-taxed toiletries with half-opened eyes. He attempts to help me with making breakfast and I hear my in-laws’ murmur behind me about my choice of clothing and my inability to work in the kitchen by myself. I try to maintain my composure and finish up breakfast so I can be on time for the 9.20 am train. I wait patiently at the station amidst the background of men cat-calling and whistling. "I can do this," I say and comfort myself. I let out a deep sigh of relief when I hear the rumbling of the train upon the tracks drawing closer. Finally, a certainty of safety.
While I climb up the platform I feel someone’s hand upon my torso. I turn around to a man in a branded suit smirking and aggressively winking. I clench my fist as my mind goes numb out of fear. I feel my body shut down, unable to move. I’ve done this before and I can very well do it once more. I push myself forward to a vacant seat. The man followed to the seat near me. My heart is racing faster. I hold on tight to my purse with my arms crossed while his elbow grazed my chest. I look around helplessly. "Can someone speak out for me? Can someone save me?". The 10-minute travel to work, slowly is starting to define my identity: I am a discardable rag that could be tossed and turned according to the pleasure of others. The human in me is silent- as if no longer alive.
I walk into my desk job to be welcomed by …
nothing.
I am unseen and uncared for, merely for being born a woman and not a man. The men in the room lead the meetings and they lead us. Our ideas go over their heads. We are just bodies filling up space, receiving a lower salary though equally qualified; never promoted though more experienced than many of the men in the room.
I walk back home from work at a quick pace before the moon starts to shine. Why? Because with the moon comes the two-legged animals of the night to whom I am a source for satisfying their pleasure and nothing more. I hear vendors greet me and invite me to their women’s day promotional booths and sales corners. They hand me gift cards, vouchers, drinks and cakes. I feel like a queen.... until I saw the darkness of night around me. The feeling of insecurity is taunting me. I called my supportive husband to ask if he was able to pick me up. He quickly agreed. I wait in the lobby of the shopping complex until he arrived. Salesmen constantly come up to me offering me baskets of discounted goodies. I politely refused them.
Thank you for the gift cards but... is that it? Will I still be an inspiring queen tomorrow or an object of pleasure? I want to know.
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