How to be a woman

Is so easy that anyone can do it:

You go with the shirt with the neckline, the red lips, the hair against the wind, your gaze is a middle finger to the sun, yet you fear the eyes that never rest on yours. 

You keep walking with the short shorts, which are more than five fingers from the knee, that lets your skin breathe during summer, for which you starve yourself of hunger, of gym, of running, of mirrors to feel as they say that you should. 

However, you feel his hand in your pocket even though no one is there, you feel the weight of that behind you even though he looks the other way, you feel his fingers inadvertently brush your skin. You keep walking, your hair, it’s a ponytail, then a bun, then you cut it with a blade because it’s hot and also because you don’t want an extra arm for them to grab you.  

The red lips are now the colour of your skin, there are also two crosses because you don’t want to make a sound and let the world know that you are still alive. But you also want to make a sound and make the world realize that you are alive. 

They start calling you crazy and hysterical, the middle finger gaze starts to be called a war scream, you keep your back straight even when you fear the eyes that never look at yours, you take long strides even when your fingers tremble to hide the short shorts.

The hands are still there, the eyes are still there, the catcalls are the horns, the whistles are the cops, the invitations are your allies, the insecurity is genetic. 

It’s easy to be a woman when since birth you have been taught to fight for who you are.

TA.