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Student @ University of Abuja
She’s a girl—and that’s never been the problem.
<p><img alt="" src="/media/inline_insight_image/1000113622.jpg"/></p><p><br/></p><p>Once there was a girl.</p><p>Taught to make herself small.</p><p>Taught not to breathe too loud.</p><p>Taught not to talk too much.</p><p>Taught never to walk with her head high, but to keep her head bowed.</p><p>Taught to fold her dreams like laundry and to never, ever take up too much space.</p><p>She is a girl.</p><p>Judged even before she was born.</p><p>Spoken for, before she even speaks.</p><p>Shut down before she dreams.</p><p>At home, they told her:</p><p>"Stay quiet."</p><p>"Obey."</p><p>"Endure."</p><p><br/></p><p>She is a girl.</p><p>Seen for what she's wearing before she's seen for what she's worth.</p><p>They stitched their judgement and scorn into every thread then make it look like it's her fault. </p><p>She is cowed by shame.</p><p>Cut down by stares.</p><p>Judged by her dress. </p><p>Too short?</p><p>"She asked for it."</p><p>Too long?</p><p>"She's oppressed."</p><p>Too tight?</p><p>"She's a temptation."</p><p>Too loose?</p><p>"She's hiding something."</p><p>Tell me, what is the right way for her to be seen?</p><p>In skirts, they say she provokes.</p><p>In jeans, she disrespects.</p><p>In heels, too loud.</p><p>Barefoot, too wild.</p><p>It never mattered what she wore—she, being her, was always the problem.</p><p><br/></p><p>She is a girl.</p><p>History remembers it well.</p><p>They called her Eve, and from the beginning, they blamed her for the fall.</p><p>Since then, her hands have been tied by intentions misread, laws miswritten, and tongues quick to judge what they don't even know.</p><p>And it never changes</p><p>"It's okay to dream—but she's a girl?"</p><p>"You can be anything you want to be—but she's a girl?"</p><p>"You can be a leader—unless you're a girl?"</p><p>Yeah, she's a girl, and somehow that's always an excuse.</p><p><br/></p><p>But that girl—</p><p>She listened, and then unlearned.</p><p>She peeled back their labels and cut the strings of their puppetry, and began to weave her own stories.</p><p>She forgot the silence.</p><p>She forgot the shame.</p><p>She learned to love the skin she's in and the star she chases.</p><p>She learned that there is thunder in her voice,</p><p>And lightning in her mind.</p><p>She is not weak or small.</p><p>She is strength wrapped in grace.</p><p>Hope dressed in flesh.</p><p>She is a girl.</p><p>She is more.</p><p>She is not your silence.</p><p>She is not your shame.</p><p>She is the future.</p><p>And she is enough.</p>
She’s a girl—and that’s never been the problem.
By
Danielle Daniel
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Danielle Daniel
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