womanhood

a work in progress

Category: Aware (Page 1 of 36)

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Worth

I have spoken to countless women about this. 

Countless mothers. 

Countless friends. 

You know what they say? 

You know what you all say? 

Money is the determining factor. 

As a society, we use money to determine things. 

He earns more, so we thought he should work. 

There is no point in me working because it doesn’t make financial sense. 

He made the decision to buy the warehouse because he makes the money. 

We moved three times for his career. 

I conceived and so a career wasn’t an option.

It seems. 

Who earns more money, seems to call the shots. 

And women especially seem to feel this the most, once they have children. 

Because they aren’t earning money, their sense of worth plummets. 

They toss their power, their self worth and arguments out the window. 

Because. He earns. 

///

Using money to decide worth is the WORST call you can make. 

Your worth is in who you are. 

Is in how loving you feel towards yourself. 

How contented you are. 

And if that means, putting the kids in childcare at an additional financial cost, so you can get some hours away from the home and engage with the world and feel HAPPY, then, your family is going to see the benefits of that. 

Don’t let money be the only measure. 

There are so many more measures. We need to give them more priority. 

Or we’ll have more depression and damaged children. 

X

K

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Instagram Responsibilities

I feel like this has just dawned on me lately.

The world is so obsessed with the physical appearance of things.

Weight. Make Up. Skin. Clothes.
We are so outward.
So concerned with the outward.

In the name of health, we go for runs, go to the gym, eat salads and get clean.
But is it in the name of health, or is it in the name of a good instagram photo?

Now the other thing I’ve realised.

Is that.

We have a responsibility.
By showing off our highlights, we are creating a portrayal of our lives.

Everything is good.
Happy.
Wealth.

blessed

We want to project this identity.
We want people to think this of us.

It’s no wonder I sometimes feel gross, sick and not-enough after I scroll through a feed.

In a way.
We became our own worst nightmare.

Beauty magazines full of slim women.
Looking sexed up with perfect skin.
We hated that.

But hey look.

Now we’re the ones making it.

I feel so much more responsible now for the content I make and share.

I ask myself, why are you sharing this?
How do you want to be perceived?
Does this make you feel good about yourself?
Or are you hunting down those likes that will make you feel good about yourself?

And I know I’m not there yet.
I haven’t tried Facetune, but I still jut my chin out, because you know. Angles.

But yes.

I’m a little more mindful.

And also realising.

This is exactly what we do at parties.

We don up, heel up and perfect up.
To create fake ideas of who we are.

When is this going to stop?

X
K

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Basics.

We really, really, really. 

Need to LEARN. 

This. 

This simple thing. 

Your power is NOT in the money you earn. 

NOT in the status you keep. 

NOT in the business you run. 

Your power is NOT in the children you raise. 

NOT in the people you hire. 

NOT in the beauty you have. 

Your power is NOT in your home. 

NOT in the PRADA bag you own. 

NOT in the Instagram followers you have. 

Your power is in you. 

Seated within you. 

In the way you trust in yourself. 

In the way you believe in yourself. 

In the truth of yourself. 

In the beauty of who you are. 

That is where it lies. 

And when it comes from that truth, 

You will do no harm. 

X

KI

Power

Yesterday you spoke.

And spoke. 

And spoke. 

I wanted you to get it all out. 

Out of your system. 

The words, the pain, the hurt. 

Everything. 

Out. 

So that your insides were anew. 

But I couldn’t help but notice. 

Those strings of words. 

All too familiar. 

Because there was a time. 

When they came from my lips. 

He said I shouldn’t. 

They thought it was best I don’t. 

It’s not in my control. 

He bought the tickets so I had to go. 

I told him we shouldn’t, but he said we should. 

All those words. 

Tell me. 

You gave your power to him. 

Nestled it in his lap. 

And then asked me. 

What can I do? 

 

X

K

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Sinking in Doubt

I’m sinking.
Deeper and deeper.
And I’m trying to stop myself.
Everyday.

With 5 deep breaths.
With a little tidy here and there.
With spinach as a side.

Holding myself up.
Just a little.

It’s a wave you’ve gotta ride through babe.
You know you’re gonna more than make it at the other end.
So why you stressing?

I know Kholo is going to leap, sing and dance.
Not just float.

So why do I seem to obsess.
Worry.
Anxiet myself.

Let. It. Go.
Surrender.

Xx
K

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So Mad

I’m so mad at you.
At you all.
For not showing up.
When I thought you would.

You know what.
Life doesn’t boil down to a matter of life and death.
Relationships aren’t about that final moment, as if I’m hanging off the edge of the cliff.
And that is when you need to show up.

It’s made of everyday moments.
And those are the ones.
You needed to show up for.

That’s when you choose.
Me.
Us.
This.

Not when I’m hanging on the edge of a cliff.
Cause honies this ain’t no Road Runner episode.

X
K

 

(Also a post from last year, feeling all ok at the moment:))

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Care

Who taught you not to care?
Who taught you not to get riled up?
Who taught you that you couldn’t make a difference?

My child.
My friend.
My lover.

YOU ARE THE DIFFERENCE.

In your tongue.
In your soul.
In your mind.
Your heart.

Lies the difference.

So feel it.
Get crushed.
Get hurt by it.

The racism. The oppression. The sexism. The casteism. The world.

Get fucked off.
And speak your heart.
Speak your words.

Because my darling sweetest.
It takes us.
Everyday people.

Bringing our courage and our hurt to the front.
To make change.

With a conversation.
With a protest.
With an instagram post.

With every little thing.
With every big thing.

We are making a difference.

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The Garden is Overgrown

It’s funny in a way.
Normally, I would have planned it just so.
Someone to nurture.
Someone to water.
While I was away.

But I guess in someways, I couldn’t offer it.
Couldn’t care enough for it.

So now we’re back.
And it’s over run.
Run a muck.

Creepers twirling.
Passion fruit vines, crushing the curry leaves.
Tomato-less tomato trees sprawling over the concrete.
Dried, dried leaves.
Dead as they droop.

And I look at them and am reminded.
Of my lack of desire to nurture.

Where I was once so attentive, we had herbs and chillies, alive and tomatoes ripening in the sun.

I’m now barren in a way.
Nothing to give.
Nothing to slay.

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Burn

Oh.
Us Indians.
Our forefathers taught us well.

We got taught, how NOT TO GET INTO TROUBLE.
How to lie low.
How to play it safe.
How to avoid the fire.

Play the white game.
Wear the white clothes.
Change your name to Tom. Or John.
So it eases the barriers down.

And we did it.
Before us, our parents did it.
Our forefathers.

We rubbed off the bindis.
Traded the saris for blouses.
Our houses smell like curry, so we change before we head out.
Exhaust fans always on.

Assimilating.
Apologising.

I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you apologise for the smell of your tuna.
I didn’t hear you apologise for your thick accent, the one I can barely decipher.
I didn’t hear you apologise for the skin you bare, so offensive to the culture I come from.

That’s right.
You don’t need to apologise.
It is who you are.

So why the fuck.
Are we apologising for who we are?

I blame us.
Us.

Me.
Me.
Me.

So now, when I order an latte, I don’t say “Kish” to make it easier for you to spell my name.
I say Karishma. So you learn it for the next Karishma.

I don’t tell my son to take off his rakhi, or hesitate to speak in Indian to him in front of you.
It’s not rude. It’s our language.

I cook up a curry storm and I invite you home for it.

We are us.
And the differences make us beautiful.
And who we are.

Erasing them, erases us.
And we are hollow inside.
Lost, confused and messed up.
Trying to be like you, but when we see ourselves in the mirror, we know can never be.

X
K

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Running

I’ve been observing myself over the last year.
Trying to find a balance of self care and work.

When I ran a design agency, I never really cared enough about my health.
I was trying, but perhaps, also running.
Running to keep it going.
To get somewhere.

And I realise now.
I’ve done the same thing since having launched Kholo.

Running.
From the fear of not succeeding.

And now, I’m on an island.
Taking a break.
Away from my son.
Away from the every-day-grind.

Finally pausing.

And I can see what I’ve done to my body.
All over again.

With the running.

Aru got agitated. And maybe it was unrelated to my running.
But maybe it was related.

So I think this time around.
I’m going to take it slow.
More trust.
Less fear.

More time for meditation and walks and maybe some hip-hop.
More time to cook a meal.

And less panic time for Kholo.

X
K

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