Woman. RISE. 

Happy woman’s day to all powerful woman in the world. 

To those who have proved to be greater than expected and more powerful than the men who have told them to stand down. 

To the girls who loved books more than barbies and couldn’t understand why her brother got to eat and sleep whereas she had to clean up after them all

To those who do not keep quiet in a world where rape is as common as dying.

Woman. Rise above the remarks made by those we need to support us on what we can do and what we are no supposed to.

Rise out of the ashes of your burnt dreams, phoenix. You’re not dead. So what is stopping you from fighting back?Nothing should be able to hold you back anymore! 

Stand for your womanhood and the people who support you.  Shake hands with the women who hate us for our strength. Wish them their own happiness if they try and steal yours. You are more powerful than you know. And that is why you should rise.

By the words of Maya Angelou, we have been written down in history as weak. Fragile. Dependent. Those were all “twisted lies” because we’ve overcome generations of feeling inferior. To the point that our grandparents believe us to be spoiled. “Too smart” they tell us.  But that is what they are used to. 

But we will rise. 

Rise above Paulette Julies’ poem about the role of women. Why should we be in the kitchen instead of out in the field. Why should I have to fight to prove to be the one fit for the job.

I call bullshit! To all those telling us we are not intelligent enough to take on roles previously seen as “male”. Have we not come far enough to show otherwise? 
I am not a victim.

I am not a child 

I am as human as you and as powerful as it gets. You can throw me down and you can yell at me. But I will rise out of the hatred you have woven around us for centuries… 

As a woman, I will rise. And I will fuck you up. 


Use it wisely.

In order for me to be as open and honest as I could be, it would be best to start at the beginning.

By beginning, I don’t mean the beginning of time, where the worlds were created by either God or just nothingness, or when I was born.

By beginning, I mean when I started realizing things.

It began when I realized I was not the centre of the world. I did not have authority over anyone but my mother. I could kick and scream and they would glare at her, knowing she spoiled me into believing I owned everything.

I was no longer lucky. I used to think I was unreasonably pretty and would be for the rest of my life. I wasn’t. There will always be someone prettier, someone smarter, someone more than me. And realizing that pained me enough to withdraw myself. I got angry.

I was angry enough to begin writing these hate letters aimed at insulting people who did me wrong, they were amusing years later, but at the time, I was so pained. Anger brought out a lot in me.

Slowly but surely, I began to love life again, I found someone who made me the centre of their lives and for a time I was fine, blinded by being treated like a princess that I didn’t remember that princesses were property, not power. I was ignoring all the bad because he was only human and we all have our bad sides. But this began hurting me. I got angry again. Way more than before.

This time I didn’t write, I let it boil up inside me until i eventually burst open, in flames, on everyone surrounding me. I had a habit of burning down doors that opened for me.

Anger is a realization that life is not how we imagined it to be. Anger is how you feel when you realize you are not going to get what you want but you want it anyway so we fight. we fight with our bodies and our minds about why this cannot work for us. We, as women, deal with so much bullshit but we let our anger subside because “THEY ARE ONLY HUMAN”

but I am done not writing about it. I figured the best writing comes from emotion we cannot control. What better emotion than anger?