I know a woman.

I know a woman whose birth was never celebrated with great enthusiasm. I know a woman that never attended parties or drank toasts; a woman that always is somewhere else when people gathered trying to nurse her injuries done to her by her spouse. I know a woman that let invitations slip, and failed to form friendships. I know a woman that after enduring a lot of punches was still committed to her daily routine:  cooking, and cleaning.   I know a woman whose consent was never asked, and her opinion does not matter.  I know a woman whose body language was often misunderstood, and had multiple times been sexually harassed.

It always, almost seemed natural to her; as if that is the way her life was destined to be; her serving him. But when I looked below the surface, deep inside the small details of her life, I found a solid block of ice upon which her independence, her freedom as a woman, had been foundered by her forbearers.  She grew up in a society where sexism was a big of an issue; where women were barred from school and shoved into marriage. She adopts a new surname, and moves to a new house with new family and new friends.  She was not born to be free.  She was born to serve.  She could not choose who to get married to, her husband was chosen for her. She could not love; her heart does not feel love. She could not walk freely at night without the risk of being rape, and she could not make her own decisions with great integrity without being judge by the society she lived in.  That’s the way she was formatted. That’s what she was taught: total submission with inferiority complex tagged in front of her as a reminder. 

Just a little down the memory lane, my father’s opinion always over power that of my mother’s ( my mother and her three sister wives) Nothing that my sisters says holds more relevance to that of me and my male siblings. I had my own room outside the main house at the age of 15, and nearly every day, a new girl will come to visit me and stays for as long as she wants. It was as if I run a slaughtering house. My parents knew about it, but they didn’t mind. My sex earned me that freedom. However, that was not true for my sisters.  There will be a homicide case to be investigated on if ever they were caught talking to a man in a dark, hideout place.  Also, before I received my holy communion.  I did a year of catechism learning the bible.  Almost all the prophets were male. The pictures hanging at the church social room wall were all male. I thought: why are there no female prophetess? Aren’t women strong or smart enough to deliver God’s message.  Does women inferiority began in heaven?  I was confused.

Then I learned about Elizabeth, Mary Madellen, and Mary, and Sojourner Truth and Ellen Craft and Mother Therese, and Manal al-Sharif. Prophetesses were there, strong women were there, smart women were there. There were not given the same attention as men. And to be hung up on walls gives you power and recognition. Gives you security, I knew women been accused of being “witches and sent into exile.  I know women who were accused of being prostitutes.  I know women who were accused of murdering their spouse. These were women who didn’t want to be submissive to men’s supremacy; women who were strong, and smart and free.

For so many years in so many cultures and so many societies, women have been mistreated.  Women still feel afraid to say what they want to say. Feel shameful to report rape or sexual violence caused to them.  They leant to repress their wishes to serve men and to be compliant.   Although things had changed over the years, male egotism still remains: in gesture, in tone, and in approach. It is subtle, but it is there. It is not hard to see at all.

I believe a woman should be free, should be able to say no when she feels like it without her integrity vilify.  I believe a woman has the right to process things as they want and react to things as they wish. I believe a woman must have money and a house of her own, must have freedom to grow and exist. And does not have to change her last name to that of the man.  It is time to recover the boundaries that they could set between their personal lives. They should be women: good at hellu-ing and chep-ing where necessary.