Bhoomi's diary

Stuck in my golden cage, gilded with wires, shackles of judgemental holding me back in every decision. Worries on every single step I take, comments on the outfits I choose to wear.
What’s all that makeup for they ask? Why go out for a walk alone in the dark?
My solitude in question, they ask how can you enjoy this?
But they ask questions they aren’t willing to hear answers for,
How blinded are we by inability to listen, our blatant ignorance.
That we choose to be resilient to change in the name of indifference.
How difficult is it to let go off a belief, the one being preached to us in the name of religions and culture.
Passed down by every generation, without ever being questioned.
How caged it feels to be a woman, they’ll question your morality, while judging your clothes, the way you look and speak.
They will shun out your expressions, calling them unnecessary.
They like preaching their daughters to be careful, letting their sons be wild and free.
He’ll never be judged for being out late, he’ll never be worried about his safety
His dignity won’t be questioned for the decisions he chooses to make, they’ll never ask him to take a step back.
He won’t be held back by the shackles of gender norms, he’ll get away with life without worrying about the world.
But choosing the same path as a woman, is something you’ll be called out for.

Why is that skirt so short, what’s all the cleavage for?
Why are you wearing so much makeup, are you trying to get attention?
Too fat, too skinny, too bold, too bleak, too ambitious, too lazy, you can try very hard to please.
They’ll chase you for more, like hounds hungry for meat.
They will have opinions on things that don’t concern them while turning a blind eye towards the actual problems, in the comparison of the economy to length of my skirt, what am I getting more importance for?
Does my makeup bother you, why is your face stinging?
Why do you suddenly care about the health of my skin?
Why should I hold back from being myself, because of your jealousy ?
How pathetic must it be to be you, to live in the constant state of envy.