By Chinemerem Onuorah
He asked me, “Are you angry?” I said “No. I’m not.” And he said “Good. It’s right that you’re not the kind to get mad so easily. You know, women shouldn’t.”
And it was this, more than anything else, that got me seething with rage.
I can be angry.
I can be careless.
I can be very short-tempered.
I can be aggressive.
I can be sexually reckless.
I do have feelings – all kinds.
I can be lazy.
I can be talkative.
I can be disrespectful.
I can be unsubmissive.
I’m capable of hatred.
I am not perfect.
These are not the best traits, but it’ll be foolhardy to pretend that they don’t exist in me.
It is a disservice to womanhood that the society has conditioned it to be something of perfection, and nothing less.
This desire to be likeable; to please people; to not show anger, even if you’re angry; this need to always smile, even when you’re hurt. All these, stifle our humanity as women.
I refuse to be perceived as a ‘special’ creature. I refuse to accommodate hurt, just so I can be likeable. I am not sacred. I am human. Just human.
I am a woman; and I’m capable of imperfection!
Write – Chinemerem Onuorah is a writer, blogger, and journalist.