I know of women who are handed pencils and expected to make from it paintings
of women who are given scraps and are told to make out of it meals
of women who are given thread and expected to make from it clothing
I know of women who are given less yet possess the ability to multiply that
of women who go through hell yet build in their minds a heaven they aspire to reach
of women who submerge themselves in relationships yet still feel a void
When I tell my mother of these women
She tells me we are made this way
That the magic is that God made us to endure — the good and bad
That our reward is that heaven lies under our feet, that we are the gatekeepers of goodness, that patience and the ability to endure runs in our blood and because of this
We will forever prevail in times of every adversity
We will do more than what is expected of us
We will become whoever we want
Because in the end, we will still be shunned, fingers will still point at us, our character and intentions will still be questioned
the women I know refuse to give up
the women I know sacrifice for the sake of those they love and call it their duty
the women I know strive to do immeasurable amounts of good without the need of acknowledgment
the women I know trade their identities for ones that are prescribed to them
but one day, I hope to know of more women
who give up when they feel they need to
who sacrifice, but not at the expense of their own well being
who never, ever give up their identity to fit someone else’s description of who they should be
I hope to know of more woman
who know of their worth
who believe of their worth
who know that being a woman, in itself, is worth it
