By Zara Q., TIWP Student


She is infectious.
She is loud and joyful and ridiculous.
She has an energy like no one else.
She glows with authenticity.

She burns an emerald flame;
scattered among the sands,
she is minerals of jade.

He told her to be quiet.
He, who is old and painted with frowns,
tells her to wrap away her voice,
to muffle it with blankets.

Would he tell that to her brother?
To the sixteen year old guys right beside her?
To the twenty-something men walking around like they own the place?

No.
I think not.
I think his only problem is with a girl who takes up the space she is deserved.

Enough is enough,
and I raged.
How dare he try to silence her,
to take this beautiful uniqueness away from the world?
How dare he try to take away a soul,
one that lights up paths for the little girls who see her daily?

So I was the instigator.
I went up the escalator.
I fed the fire and went behind those who were up higher.
They wouldn’t understand- how could they?
They are men, riddled with good intentions but blinded by naivety.

Laced with aggression, he was stubborn.
Somehow I don’t think the narrative he tries to impose upon anyone will ever change.
At least we told her to refuse to listen.
At least he got a talking to and a slap in the metaphorical face.
At least she wasn’t forgotten.