A raw and powerful reflection on the struggles of womanhood—breaking free from stereotypes, fighting objectification, and reclaiming autonomy in a world that tries to silence us.
If my diary could talk, it would whisper secrets, dreams, fears, and rage—each drop of ink a testament to my struggles and strength. It would tell you today she woke up again not just to prepare breakfast but to break free of those oral codes. A convenient rule that had been instilled in her for generations to come.
“I want to be more than just a girl, conforming to society’s expectations” it would say. Echoing those pressures we women face to fulfil the anticipation of the strangers we have never met. Too often, we find ourselves caught between conforming to tradition and chasing our aspirations. It would tell you about those nagging comments that are often addressed as well-meaning concerns ranging from “talk softly, girls don’t talk like that” to “you should get married soon” weighing down on us making us question will our opinions ever be heard. Only to realise that when saying no itself is not considered a valid decision when it comes to our own bodies, not a chance in hell our opinions will ever be given consideration. These expectations don’t just limit our ambitions-they reduce our worth to appearances, reinforcing the idea that we are defined by how we look rather than who we are.
It would say that a guy saying “You look hot” or “you look sexy” never made us feel like it’s a compliment but rather an objectification. It only reminded us that we are seen as merely just an object that are to be desired, consumed and controlled, bringing out into the light that we live in a world where a girl’s identity, worth and value are tied to her physical appearance rather than her intellect and character.
It would say I glide my pen stroking down my desires and aspirations that glow like ocean depths at night inspired by those women who have woven stories of bravery by standing defiant while shaking off those criticisms that society tries to impose. From entering fields to male-dominated industries these women faced numerous challenges and sexiest comments. “Cricket is not for girls” they were told “ICC ODI Cricketer of the Year goes to Smriti Mandhana” was the reply. These women broke down those barriers and stereotypes making us believe dreams don’t come with the label ‘for men only’ but are instead accessible to anyone who dares to pursue them. My dairy would tell you that I want to be one of them, a woman who will never get deterred no matter what society dictates.
Yet, beneath the ink that talks of dreams and courage flows an undercurrent of fear. It would say, “She buried her pen like a sword with frustration on my pages writing-“victim blaming is more than just a word”. It’s a subtle reminder that our freedom is bound by rules that favour men and we are always one step away from being blamed for someone else’s action. Rather than teaching men to respect our boundaries, they judge us based on the inch of fabric we wear and fail to realise our clothes are never an invitation for harassment.
If my diary could speak, it would reveal a truth too often silenced-there are more rapes hidden between the lines of a notebook than ever make it to the headlines.