Woman is imperfect man. What makes you a human being isn’t your biology or your brains, but whether you have a dick or not. Or maybe having a dick gives you the right to be a living being.
I had a fight with mum today and a moment ago I cut myself. She made it perfectly clear that my father is more of a human being, a living being, than I am because he’s a man and I’m not. I told her a few things he did, things I’d never told her before because I don’t like talking about my problems. My father has hurt me many times but I never told mum. I’m not sure why. But I think it’s because I and my problems aren’t important enough. I didn’t want her to think I was trying to gain attention. But I told her a few things today. I don’t want to share them here because it’s too embarrassing. But when I asked her if she’d talk about it with him and make sure he doesn’t do it again, she told me that I should do it. At first she’d refused to even believe it and then she told me that it was my problem and I should deal with it. But she also told me not to hurt him and be nice with him. I told her I couldn’t spare the time at the moment because I have exams, and it’s something he does everyday. If she’d just talk today and I’d join her when I get the time. It takes ages to get dad to listen to you, let alone understand what you’re saying. She told me it was definitely my problem and I should deal with it myself, and when I told her it affects us both, her and me, and it was his problem not mine or hers, she told me that she’d suffered because of him and her own father a lot more than me and I should learn to endure it.
Only last night, when I told her about the poem ‘An Introduction’ written by Kamala Das, an Indian, she told me she doesn’t want me to be a feminist because she doesn’t want the world, the society, to break me; that I’m not strong enough to shoulder it; that no man would ever marry me.
I just realised it’s my parents who broke me before the world did. And somehow it’s very funny. She tells me to be wary of the world and stop being a feminist but I’m more hurt by her than anyone else because she’s the only one I want to accept me and she can’t. I don’t care all that much if the world doesn’t accept me, if they don’t see me enough of a human being. As long as she accepts me, and cares for me, I’ll be perfectly fine.
I couldn’t help wondering why she wanted to create me in the first place if she knew she wouldn’t be able to care for me enough if her baby turned out to be girl instead of a boy and that her husband would never love his child. It’s horrible of me to think like that, I know. And I’m sorry. But I couldn’t help it.
I should be studying, I have an exam tomorrow. But I can’t.
Fuck this. All I ever talk about here are my problems. But honestly, I don’t have anywhere else to go to talk about these.