Category: Thoughts

Her First

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It’s been about ten months since I first saw her. Right after the floods, my father brought her into our lives. That tiny face that brings joy to me and makes my first question my love for him.

I woke up this morning to a post on Facebook. Kerala offers gold coins to the civic authorities that kill the maximum number of stray dogs. I had a moment of “WHAT?!”

I wasn’t as furious as I was confused. They claimed the reason was because the street dogs are biting too many people. I recalled a moment a stray dog would refuse to come near me. She was afraid. Someone from my world had hurt her before. But I waited. I fed her everyday. Now all I have to do is whistle, and she’ll come running to me, tail wagging, face happy. I imagined a world where if I’d just killed her instead of feeding her and adoring her with patience. It wasn’t one I could process because even if she hadn’t come around, I couldn’t ever do that to another living being.

That’s the key word. LIVING being. She’s not an old broken radio. She’s not a plastic bottle that’s no use anymore. She’s not rotten food you can’t eat for sure. She’s a LIVING being. Like you. Like me. When you’re hurt and upset, you yell at people, don’t you? If you say No, it’s a lie and we both know it. Tell me, should I kill you for shouting at me? “Because that’s just hurtful”?

Remember those fathers that get angry and spank their children once or more? Should we kill them?

When you do something annoying and your girlfriend playfully slaps you on your arm only to realise she’s stronger than she thinks she is? Should we kill her?

If hurting someone leads to our death, why can’t we kill everyone?

Oh I get it. It spreads rabies and diseases! Like your mother who developed fever and walked around the house knowing it might spread to you and the rest of the family. Sounds mean and rude, I know. But that’s how ridiculous it all sounds.

If each person adopts one stray dog, we wouldn’t have to kill them. Not just because there’d be none left but because maybe you’ll realise how no human being (Not even your own parent or child) can love you like that furry little thing can.

I came home for Diwali. I was forced on the floor and showered with love by my two babies. I’d been wondering if that ticket was worth it. Those five minutes ensured it was.

I read an article about two girls who nailed a dog to the wall and posted pictures about it on social media. Is this an achievement? “I KILLED SOMEONE” is not a thing of pride. It is a disgrace. It is offensive. It is shameful to the human race.

Anyone who tells you otherwise is either lying or needs help as much as you do.

I looked at her today. She doesn’t know it’s her first birthday. She was curled up with wide eyes staring at me. I couldn’t imagine someone hurting her. I couldn’t imagine someone willingly putting her through pain.

I would be on my bed 8,000 miles away and feel a movement. I’d have to remind myself it’s not them. It’s wind. And I’d wipe away a tear. My friends would tease me when I tell them how much I miss my dogs. They’d laugh about how I didn’t mention family members. But that’s the truth. That’s what unfiltered, undying love does to you. The kind you only receive from these four-legged, puppy eyed babies.

#StopAnd if you have the heart to hurt them knowing they’re in pain and hearing them cry..

I suggest not just checking into a mental asylum, but also request being chained because you’ve reached a new level of emotional and mental instability and may cause hurt to anyone at any moment based on whim without rationality.

Because animal cruelty is not a joke. It is not a show of courage. It is not a trend. It is not fashionable.

If you ever find yourself wanting to hurt an animal, find your local mental health specialist and get help!

#StopMurderingLivingBeings

Anger’s Comfort Zone

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I was on a long and emotional call with a friend who’d recently been verbally abused by his sibling in a moment of anger. We talked about the possible reasons and how they usually behave within and outside of family. All our observations led me to one big question – Are we willingly more rude to a family member than we are to a friend or a stranger?

I have always tolerated irritating behavior from a stranger and I always told myself it is due to the fear of appearing harsh or wanting to avoid a public scene. But what I never noticed – I am perfectly capable of creating a scene and saying harsh things to a family member at that same place, for the same reason. But why?

I turned to my facebook page to see what others believe is the reason and they came up with interesting reasons:

  • “Because we don’t feel the need to please our family.”
  • “We’re comfortable with our loved ones and it’s okay for our emotions to show.”
  • “Your family will not judge you for your anger.”

And finally, the answer that really made me think – “We know what our family members’ limits are and how they’ll react, wherein a stranger’s reaction to your rudeness might be more aggressive than you would expect.”

Does knowing one’s limits make it right to mistreat them?

Just because someone isn’t saying “Stop” does not mean it isn’t hurting them. And honestly, at times, we can cross the limit and not know it at all. What then?

Someone said, “But after the fight, I apologized. So it’s totally fine.” Is it?

“An apology means nothing if you don’t stop doing what you’re apologizing for.”

An apology does not take away how you made someone feel at that moment. It doesn’t take away the potential damage you could cause to a relationship. An apology, to a person who was emotionally pained with words, is only a temporary bandage. The scar will always remain.

I’m 24. I remember the hurtful words my mother said to me when I was 9. She apologized. I forgave her. But I can’t forget. Not even if I tried. Because people forget the good things you do. But the knives you struck in their hearts in the form of words, it sticks with them forever.

Anger you see on the news always begins from a place of comfort. When you think one person takes it, it grows.

So stop. Evaluate a situation before throwing a tantrum or screaming at your loved ones. Always put yourself in their shoes.

Just because they’re family doesn’t mean they don’t have emotions. Just because they’re not arguing does not mean they’re not hurting.

Watch your language. Breathe to 10 before you speak. Sure, we’ll all have our moments. But ask yourself, “Is this situation worth a lifetime of negative memories?”

It’s not good karma to help a stranger you see on the bus after you’ve yelled at someone at home. It’s only your day that gets better when you say, “Sorry.” Their day is ruined for good.

Remember – It’s not blood that binds a human to another. It’s the way you treat each other.

Be kind.

Especially to the ones who’ll forgive you when you’re not.

NO.

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“‘NO’ is a full sentence.” – Pink, 2016

I made that bold and centre for a reason.

I grew up in a world where “No” is not always an acceptable answer. I don’t mean being a kid at a mall crying for Barbie. But as an adult, when it’s time for a phase in your life you’re not ready for. ‘No’ does not stop my parents from finding me a groom. ‘No’ does not stop our family from expecting us to be pregnant. ‘No’ does not stop them from planning a life I don’t want for myself. ‘No’ is considered disrespectful. ‘No’ is treated like a bad word. ‘No’ is an unacceptable answer.

But that cannot be an excuse.

I watched this video titled “India’s Daughter.” A guy said she was asking for it when she decided to roam around so late in the night with a man. Really? What if that had been her brother? You wouldn’t have known the difference anyway. I have brothers who look nothing like me. Does that mean I’m asking for it?

In the movie Pink, the guy says, “She laughed. She touched my hand. She was asking for it.” You want a woman to constantly control her hands, her face, her smile so you don’t feel irked?

Dress decently or you’ll look like you’re asking for it. Laugh slowly or he’ll think you want him. Reduce that make up or you’ll look too easy. Come home early or he’ll think you’re one of “those” girls.

Why is there so much pressure on one gender to control everything?

Why can’t a guy control his libido and keep it in his pants? Why can’t he control his mind from wandering to places it shouldn’t with a woman who’s simply looking for help? Why can’t he control his hands and not molest innocent people?

For a world that limits women from so many things, we have absolutely no problem placing her front and centre when someone violates her personal space and hide the man behind reasons that shouldn’t even be acknowledged.

Brock Turner. 6 months for rape. 6 months. Because he’s got a life. He’s young. He will never rape again. Really? This is someone who, in his right mind, saw a drunk woman, pushed her behind a dumpster and made the choice to rape her. If those men hadn’t seen him, he’d have gotten away with it. And so he’d have done it again. And again. Until someday, maybe, he gets caught. The court would’ve said the same thing. Because there’s ABSOLUTELY NO PROOF that he hasn’t done this before. For all you know, that girl would’ve also been intoxicated and has no idea he’s the culprit. But ‘he won’t rape again.’

If she says No, irrelevant of how drunk or sober she is, how many men or women she’s with, how late in the day or night it is, you don’t touch her.

If she says No, it doesn’t matter what you think she’s signalling, how you interpreted her body language or what you think she wants, you respect her personal space.

If she says No, whatever it is your friends encourage, whatever you think you’ll get away with and whatever it is you want in that moment, you will keep your hands and your dick to yourself and walk away.

Because No is not just a word. It is not indecision. It is not consent. It is not an invitation.

No is a full sentence.

And it means No.

To The Ones Who Are Afraid

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I wanted to be a writer when I wrote the lamest poem I’ve ever known and held it up with pride. I wanted to be a writer when writing a letter I’ll never send to him brought me peace. I wanted to be a writer when I started a blog to shed light on my darkness. I wanted to be a writer before I even knew what it meant. I wanted to be a writer.

It was a late night phone call. He silently sobbed. “I hate my job you know? I can’t sit there anymore. But I have no choice.” It broke my heart.

“Why can’t you quit? Why can’t you go do what you want?”

“It’s not as easy as you believe it to be.”

How many times have you heard that? How many times have you said that? Chasing your dreams is not an easy task. Sometimes, it’s impossible. In my world, it’s exactly what it’s called – A dream.

I find myself laughing at such statements.

Tell me, what is easy?

Learning alphabets wasn’t easy. Learning multiplication wasn’t easy. Passing high school wasn’t easy. University wasn’t easy. Finding a job wasn’t easy. Dealing with your nightmare of a boss wasn’t easy. Marriage. Children. Grandchildren. Old age. Sickness. What is easy?

I’ve woken up in the morning unsure if we’d have something to eat. That wasn’t easy. I’ve studied for an exam while dealing with family drama. That wasn’t easy. I’ve limped my way to classes after my first foot injury. That definitely wasn’t easy.

Nothing in this world that is constantly at each other’s necks is ever easy.

But if there was something that could make those days better, worthier, would you do it?

Because I’ve been where you are. In that moment where it’s all about a choice. There is the road that’s been taken and proven. And then that road nobody knows of. The one you hear stories about. “Her daughter’s friend took the road not taken. She is now a drug addict on seventh street,” or “His son is now homeless at central station because that’s where the road not taken leaves you.”

It is everything your heart desires. It is everything they don’t want for you.

It is everything I hope you’ll choose.

I have to warn you, it’s not all bed of roses. The roads your heart leads you to are filled with thorns. Ones that hurt. Ones that make you bleed. Ones that will make you want to give up.

So is the path he took.

Because nothing in this complicated universe is ever easy. Every path you take has darkness in it. It has chaos. It has drama.

No, it won’t be easy at all.

But that moment when you wake up, knowing in your heart, that in a day filled with things that are meant to drag you down, you are about to go chase the dream they all told you you couldn’t – it will be worth it.

 

quotes-talent-courage-erica-jong-480x480Yes, they’ll tell you differently. “Not everyone who tries makes it. What if you spend the rest of your life living on granola bars and four roommates?”

Tell them, with your head held high and a look of pride, “At least I’ll wake up happy.”

I woke up in the morning, smiling. A sense of satisfaction with no achievements. It wasn’t the world they’d dreamt for me. It wasn’t a world they wanted for me. But it is mine. It was what I chose. It was a dark path that brought me here. But it is mine.

I live with my parents still. No time for a love life. No money for a social one.

But I wanted to be a writer. And so I am. Happily.

 

 

To You, Thank You

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You. Yes, you. The one with dimples so cute, I knew I was a goner before it even began.

You. The one who made me laugh silly on dark days, I could feel my heart swoon all over again.

You. The one whose voice turned my world upside down. The one who made me realize I’d never felt this way before. The one who had me fall in love like I didn’t know was possible.

Thank you.

Thank you for constantly keeping me on the edge.

I was the girl you wanted to talk to. But never those three words.

I was the girl you wanted to kiss. But not the one you wanted to hold.

I was the girl you drunk dialled at midnight. And the girl you pretended to not know when the sun shined.

Thank You.

Thank you for not nodding your head when I cried my heart out.

You see, it would have been so easy. If you’d said yes. Your life would have been easy. Because I would have done everything I could to make sure it was. I would have stood by you during your pitfalls. Your tears  made me cry. Your laughter brought me joy. You were the centre of my universe. You always would have been.

And I would have been so lost in my love for you that I would have never noticed. I would have never noticed that anger you often can’t control. I would have never noticed the way you knowingly speak hurtful words. I would have never noticed that opinion you had of me when I wasn’t around. I would have never noticed the way I’d given it all up for nothing in return.

And when I did, it would have been worse.

Thank you.

I know you don’t get it. You think this is a hate letter. You think I’m sore and angry. But here’s what you never noticed about me.

I’m not that girl.

I don’t spread rumors about the boy who broke my heart. I don’t make snarky remarks just because he does. I don’t bitch about the one I love.

And I will always love.

It won’t be as overpowering as it once was. I’ll move on. With someone who makes me smile by just existing. And I’ll live a life filled with love and chaos with him. But ten years from now, if you decide to make me your one phone call, I swear I’ll come bail you out.

Because, contrary to what you so strongly believe, love isn’t an on and off switch. You don’t just fall out of love and go on like those emotions never existed. It’s always there. In the bottom of your heart. Buried under a lot of hurt and broken pieces. And I have learnt to live with that. I have learnt to dust off those extra shards of glass and pull my chin up. I have learnt to wipe my tears and make myself smile. I have learnt to love but know when to hold back. And I learnt all that without you. I learnt all that because of you.

And that’s exactly why I deserve better.

So Thank You.

For letting me have the ability to find someone who’ll love me for me. For giving me the time and the space to know who I was in your eyes. For forcing me into knowing how to take care of myself when everything within me is falling apart.

You.

I promise, someday, when I’m sitting on a patio surrounded by my grandkids, I’ll tell them about the guy who showed me what love feels like. And I’ll have a small smile as I remember the first time I found myself wanting to lose myself to that voice. To that laughter. To you.

And that’s who you’ll always be. A far away memory. Because sitting with me and correcting me as I spoke about our story will be the man I once longed for you to be.

Hence, my love,

Thank you.

For not saying “I love you too.”

#Equalism

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I recently got into a heated argument with a friend when I mentioned that I wasn’t a feminist. I told her that the concept of feminism is so twisted today, people have forgotten the real meaning of what it really was. That I stand for something bigger and more important than just feminism. That if I’m going to fight, I’m going to fight once and I’m going to fight for everyone. I’m not doing this one step at a time. I’m sick of fighting one battle after another. I’d rather fight it all together. I’d rather win it all at once.

She didn’t understand what I was talking about.

I’ve been whistled at. I’ve gotten paid less than the boy who worked half as much as I did at an event. I’ve been groped inappropriately on public transport and been told to ignore it because, “Girls need to have shame.” I’ve been limited with choices because I was born a female. I was told to wear loose clothes that covered it all because I am a woman. My opinions have been ignored. My comments have been undervalued. Everything I am has always been less important because I am not a man.

But when the world stands up to talk about Gender Equality, I find myself unable to relate.

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Do you see what’s missing in that quote? Do you see where the world is going wrong with the words “Gender Equality”?

We’re missing an entire gender!

The first time I understood the harsh reality of how the world treated the third gender was in an elevator in a foreign country. A transgender man walked in and wasn’t treated differently. People didn’t take one step away from him. And I was awestruck. That shouldn’t be abnormal but it was. That an elevator full of people were immune to the fact that he was ‘different’ was something so surreal. It showed me how we alienated them everyday. And that’s not Gender Equality.

I saw a transgender woman on a reality tv show say, “If someone calls me ‘Sister,’ I feel like my day has been made. Like they have accepted my gender. I’m only human.” Isn’t that the most basic human courtesy to accept the other person’s core identity? Yet, to her, that would be considered a blessing. Is that Gender Equality?

Do you know how long it took the government to accept the third gender?

Do you know the world’s biggest social media platform, Facebook, only has the option of “Female” and “Male” when signing up?

That if I’m whistled at, they’re called names?

That if my time isn’t valued, their life isn’t valued?

No. I’m not saying their struggle is more important than mine. I’m not taking away the seriousness from mistreatment of women. I’m simply bringing to your attention that there’s someone else who’s going through worse. And if I’m going to use the word Gender Equality, then I will include every human being in it.

The girl whose dreams weren’t as important as her brother’s. The transgender man whose identity was suppressed with fear. The woman whose life was spent serving one after another. The transgender woman who couldn’t get into university because of her gender.

I don’t care how much hatred I get in the comments.I don’t care how my own friends will stand against me for not calling myself a feminist.

Because the truth is, I am not a feminist.

I am an equalist.

I believe in equalism. I believe in human equality. Across all genders.

If I have to stand up for someone, I’m going to stand up for everyone.

Equal opportunities.

Equal choices.

Equal respect.

Equal pay.

Not just for me. Not just for my gender. For everyone.

Because equality is not just a topic of conversation. It is a problem. And I am done fighting them one gender at a time.

#equalism

“Gender equality is not a women’s issue.

It is a human issue. It affects us all.”

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“I ______ You”

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If I were to ask you what the three most powerful words in this universe are, you will probably answer “I Love You.”

And I would disagree.

I Love You – They make any relationship special. They make any moment so important. They make you feel on top of the world.

I Love You – What if I told you there’s something better? That there’s something more important?

I recently stumbled upon the wedding video of Colleen and Joshua. For a very long time, I thought I was the only person who believed in those words. Who knew how they made every other sentence in this entire galaxy seem so irrelevant. And then I heard Joshua’s wedding vows.

Because..

Love. He can love you and still not be with you.

Love. She will love you and still marry him.

Love. They love you but still won’t want you.

Love. It’s not the most powerful word.

Love. It’s not enough.

They still have to Choose you.

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On your worst day, when you’re stuck with the flu and your loved one has to be elsewhere, it is not love that keeps them by your side. It is the choice that you are more important than anyone else. Because there isn’t a sentence in this world that will matter as much as – I Choose You.

I Choose You. In sickness and in health.

I Choose You. For better or for worse.

I Choose You. Since the day you were born until forever.

I Choose You. Despite your flaws and your shortcomings.

I Choose You. You’re not my best friend, you’re my sister.

I Choose You. You were a parent when we had none.

I Choose You. No matter what the world comes up with.

I Choose You. Despite the rest of the human population.

I Choose You. Even if she’s better.

I Choose You. Today. Tomorrow.

For the rest of my life,

I will always choose you.

Choice.

It’s everything.

 

To The Girl In Her Mid-20’s

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Photography – Ravi Roshan

 

You’ve spent so many years looking forward to this phase of your life. And it always looked so cool. So glamorous. So filled with love and laughter.

Yet here you are. With knowledge that it’s anything but.

It’s messy buns and messier lives. It’s baggy shirts and overflowing laundry bags. It’s a lot of work and never enough money. It’s freedom with responsibilities. And life is no longer what it seemed.

Different people are doing different things.

Your best friend’s getting married. Your old classmate is killing it with success. Your ex is happy in love. Your old mate is drowning in drugs. Different people are doing different things. But not you. You’re just existing. You’re getting through everyday a little better than the last. But then you have days where you can’t get up at all.

You spend your Friday evenings holed up in a corner because you’re too responsible to drink your night away. Too control freakish to lose yourself to someone else’s tunes. But somehow, this isn’t enough. This life you’re living doesn’t feel complete. Loneliness wraps around you like a blanket you love and you wonder where you went wrong. Why you became different to everyone else.

“Did I do too much too soon? Did I not do enough? Was there a reason why it was never me? Is this going to be the rest of my life? Alone? Unsuccessful? Filled with dreams that never come true?”

And your hands reach out to your phone. One text. One call. To that someone who might make you feel pretty. Who might make you feel important. And your need takes over.

The need to feel accepted. To feel appreciated. To feel adored. To feel loved.

And it is so strong, you forget your sanity for a few minutes of flattery. You lessen your worth for dishonest words. The hurt in your heart, camouflaged. If only for a few seconds.

But it’s never enough. And when you wake up, it’s worse. The hammering of your heart so loud in your ears. A memory of last night frustratingly haunting. Yet another mistake. Yet again.

You scream hateful words to yourself. When will I ever learn? You go over those messages. Those conversations. How you fell right back into a ditch when you knew better. Just for a moment, you wish you weren’t yourself.

And in that moment, read these words:

Breathe. It’s not so bad. You think I don’t understand. But I do. Because I’m there, too. I’ve made that call. I’ve texted that wrong person. I’ve woken up with regrets. I still do. I’ve felt the need to be held. I’ve felt that silent green monster towards a friend in love.
Yes, we all make those mistakes. And we all think nobody else does. But they do.

So please, don’t hate yourself. And don’t stop. Don’t stop loving with all you have. Don’t stop wishing on every shooting star. Don’t stop dreaming of fairytales and being as amazing as Malala Yousafzai. You might not always get there, but don’t stop.

You have so much left to do. You have a world filled with life waiting to happen. You have books to be read. Steps to be taken. Places to see. People to meet. You haven’t lived half your life yet. There’s so much ahead. And in ten years, when you look back, you’ll wish you were here again.

So don’t waste it wallowing in your own sadness. Don’t lose yourself to your self-pity and non-existent boundaries. Use everyday. And I don’t mean spend thousands of dollars and visit the North Pole. I know how you’re struggling to make ends meet.

Do the simple things. Stop procrastinating. Take a walk with nature. Go to the gym. Read your favorite book for the millionth time. Watch a movie. Write your novel. Sketch until you’re better than the best. Eat like you’re dying tomorrow. And most importantly, make mistakes. Your heart will heal. But today will never be back again. Don’t live with “Could-have-been’s.” Take chances.

And ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS remember – It’s okay to be alone.

There is time to let your life revolve around someone else. But today, let it revolve around you.

Not because you can’t find someone. Not because you can’t be loved.

But because you deserve to wake up with a smile. You deserve to live life. To make memories so wild, you’ll be the coolest grandparent they’ve ever known.

Breathe. It’s only your mid-20’s.

You’re going to be alright.

 

 

 

Mom

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How important can a three-letter-word be?

Mom.

She knew me when I didn’t know myself.

When I didn’t understand alphabets,

When hunger was an emotion and not a word,

When laughter was a face and not a joke,

When tears could mean anything,

When sobbing was a nightly activity.

Mom.

When school wanted to keep me away a few hours,

When I was but struggling to read,

When friends brought drama for free,

When boys developed a new identity,

When a bridge I crossed took her farther away,

When it was a struggle to not see her everyday.

Mom.

When life made me too busy,

When phone calls were made on necessity,

When a group of strangers filled up my time,

When she let me be and chose not to whine.

Mom.

When all my decisions went wrong,

When all my choices fell apart,

When love from him turned to dust,

When all I knew was not enough,

Mom.

When I was at my worst,

When I had given up hope,

When I had nothing but failure,

And she hugged me with love.

Mom.

She’s not magic.

She’s no superhero.

She’s a person

With never-ending love.

Mom,

It’s not just a three-letter-word.

She’s so much more.

Mom.

 

 

 

#IStandUp

28 Comments

 

This is a problem. One that needs to be addressed.

I have an unshakeable memory of a moment in my life. A moment when my ObGyn suggested I see a therapist because she thought I might be depressed. The therapist was a woman in her late 50’s. And I’ll live a million years and never forget the way she looked at me as she spoke the words no emotional healer should dare utter to someone that might be on the verge of depression – “Imagine being at an interview. You and another girl are the last two contenders. You’re both equally talented. There’s only one difference. She’s thin and glamorous. You’re.. Well, you. Who do you think they’ll choose, sweetheart?”

I cannot tell you how many times I’ve wondered if that was true. I’ve wondered if I’d lose my dream job because of the way I look. I developed an inner fear towards interviews because of her. And you know what the problem is?

She’s just one of the many, many people in this world who, everyday of their lives, continue to make girls feel this way. Like they’re not enough. Like their physical characteristics are flaws that will haunt the dreams they’re building in their minds.

Why does a size 0 swimsuit model still feel fat? Why does Queen Bee feel the need to photoshop her thigh gap? Why does the covergirl on a magazine claim to be make-up free when every inch of her skin is carefully airbrushed?

Have you ever been so uncomfortable in your own skin that you’d pay a man thousands of dollars to alter it? To look in the mirror and want features that aren’t yours. Her nose. Her hair. Her cheekbones. For what?!

The 70’s boasted women who are now considered too fat to have a life. Bigger women were considered beautiful then. A new mother’s pregnancy fat is considered a disgrace now.

But why?

I was having a conversation today and suddenly, something struck me as ridiculously abnormal. When taking a picture with a friend, it is no longer important that only you look good. The person with you has to look that good as well. A human being no longer makes a friend based on emotional attitudes. They’re solely formed on the physical characteristics. He looks decent. He’ll make it look like I have decent friends. She looks hot. She’ll make me look so cool. If I take pictures with them, I’ll get more Instagram followers. This narcissism fuels the concept of “Look Good, Feel Good.”

Fifteen pictures later, there’s always that one person who comments, “Who’s your friend? She’s hot!” And just like that, out of nowhere, your insecurity appears. You stare at your mirror and you see flaws. The girl with a happy-go-lucky smile finds that nonexistent flab and picks at it. Workouts. Fitbits. Walk more. Eat less. Smoothen your hair. Get side bangs. Curl it in the bottom. A Brazillian wax. Inch after inch, your body is carved to the world’s concept of perfection when it is anything but. Only, it’s no longer called an obsession. It’s called “Being Healthy.”

Have you ever stopped long enough to wonder why the men, who’ve always spoken about a “thinner” woman, are suddenly asking for more meat in their women?

It was a few days after the floods hit my city. We were finally out of our houses and in a safer, more drier part of the city. My mother looked at me and said, “I realize now that maybe it’s okay for you to be fat. Some people are meant to be the way they are. You’ve really helped at a moment of crisis. I think you should stay as you are. You’re a nice person.”

I smiled. Not because I’d received a compliment. But because my mother had finally understood something the world is teaching girls to forget.

It does not matter how you look. Nobody cares if you’ve got a thigh gap. Kylie Jenner’s lips are NOT real or natural. Who you are to the world is not about promoting the beauty you possess on the outside.

It is embracing who you are within. It is feeling like a million dollars on your worst day. It is knowing that you’re worth something because you’re kind. Because you’re caring. Because you think and act with your heart.

I don’t want to raise a daughter in a world where the person she turns to for help is going to teach her what that person believes are her flaws.I don’t want to let my sister live in a world where she feels the need to walk up and down the stairs because she ate a slice of pizza. I don’t want my mother to know that the world she’s leaving us with is polluting our brains with everything we’re not. I don’t want my grandmother to ever hear about how, if she were twenty today, she wouldn’t make the cut. Because her beautiful soul will never make as much sense as the perfect winged eyeliner, the close to nothing stomach and an unhealthy waistline.

Who you are today is everything your daughter will live through tomorrow. Is this really the world you want to create for her? Is this the example you want to set?

Because I’d like to believe that somewhere behind those fake eyelashes are eyes filled with tears at the inability to be who you are. And I’d like to hope that this post is telling you it’s okay. It’s okay to not fit in. It’s okay to have thighs that stick together. It’s okay to not have an hourglass figure. It’s okay if your nose looks weird. It’s okay if your cheeks are chubby. It’s okay if your chin looks doubled.

It’s okay. Because that imaginary standard they’re setting? That will go out of fashion within the next decade and all this energy you’ve spent fitting into that stereotype will become pointless. But a good heart? A kind soul? That will always matter. That will always stay in fashion.

So take a deep breath and wipe that makeup off. It’s time to stand up for who you are.

#IStandUp for You.

Who’re you standing up for?!