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Being oneself or showing individuality is sometimes questionable and linked to deviance. |
From I was growing up, neighbours would jokingly called me Tomboy I understood to a degree what it meant at age ten But it was not until I was twenty-five, I despise its connotations I had accepted my femininity But their roles of how I should speak and act Their condescending laws, values, morals, ethic and standards I naturally forbade. I did not accept Tom because it was masculine I did not accept Tom as I was no peeping Tom or Uncle Tom Boy was not my Ideal Not Idea Not my gender I was female and a girl who did not fit their stereotype. I guess I have always been a rebel A revolutionist Not standard or a carbon copy Was not dolly faced lipstick glossy fake I made people uneasy when I spoke My presence was felt without even an exhale Their constant bickering to act girl, dress girl and be girl As it was their way of reminding me that I should know my place. My feminine energy was so strong that other women despised me Men got attracted while others discombobulated with their own insecurities I was a trigger to their questions I surely made a mark. It is not easy for anyone to love and accept me It is not easy because I am a walking tabloid that people gossip about As their lips are like opium My fate was in the hands of the people Oh, they hated me. I was epitome of female freedom to a degree I wore comfort Grace with strength Even in my fragile state Even when my womanliness I could not hide Because of tenderness of the heart I was steadfast with a calculated mind that never stopped unwinding Only the brave could commit to me. My voice was one point my hatred now it is my uniqueness There were times, a few moments that I felt ashamed of my body, My nature, my clothes Was a woman so incapable of greatness that they had to be a Tomboy? Who was Tom this phantom and why was I in comparison My femininity was in questioned Never my masculinity. |