I’d just like to take a moment.
To thank my husband Vivek.
For preventing me from becoming a man-hater.
For listening to my distaste in men, distrust in men, disgust even, in men.
And then pausing, to give me the potential other side of the story.
For reminding me that I married someone very similar to these men I so despise.
It’s simply that.
We’ve travelled a journey which has changed him and I.
And men are often whom they are,
Because they weren’t educated otherwise.
MY WOMEN IN THE HOUSE.
PLEASE TAKE ON THIS ROLE.
Teach a man.
He doesn’t own you.
He doesn’t own your money.
He doesn’t own the surnames of your children.
He doesn’t own the style of your skirt.
He doesn’t own the sway of your hips.
He doesn’t own the food you have when you go out to dinner.
He doesn’t own your career.
He doesn’t own the relationships you have with your friends and family.
He doesn’t own the jewels you buy, or those that he gifts you.
He doesn’t own the right to tell you when to be home.
He doesn’t own a single inch of you.
Not an inch.
And it’s your role, to lock this shit into place.
To cause an uproar.
To fight the fight, be it little or large.
Stand up for what means something to you.
Live a life on your terms and not his.
Because if you keep playing the victim,
Don’t you dare go blaming a wasted life on him.