Tag: patriarchy

VERSE | WEIGHT WHAT?

On By Mahvash K. M.In Emotions, truth, verse, womenwriters, writing2 Comments

(This piece is about body image issues that so many women face especially as they get older. It takes a lot of character and guts to not let the negativity get to you. Again, this objectification is a product of our chauvinistic environments).

You’ve put on weight, wait! 
Does this mean that you’re eating too many sweets
Or could it be that you’re finally getting old
Old, rolled, holed into the box
That’s been built for you, no u-turns
Nothing you can fox your fading way out of
You’re done.  Stay in the shadows, woman
Know your place
Face the truth of tradition
Perdition
Hard-wired into your being, your biology 
Know your place
Or we’ll remind you 
Laughingly, ribbing along the line
Where we can jest or malign

I’m caught off guard, but I’ve also been 
Wrought, fraught, taught
To feel bad for feeling bad 
To smile wide
Wide enough to swallow his sin and my own hurt
My eyes scrunch up, almost close
Those windows to my soul
Beclouded, beclogged, becloaked
Lest the world see the state of my heart
He feels bad for an instant, he reneges
Laughingly, now ribbing across the line
I feel worse that he feels bad 
My smile widens until I can feel it cut into my skin
His sin and my guilt doubled
Lancing at my face, etching unnatural lines
Into furrows that make me look 
Comic, demonic, they take their pick
On the day they feel a rage
Righteous, man-ifold and brave
That they then spill into the ruts 
Of my shame-shambled face.
Image: Zelal Guzlan

VERSE | THE CARPING JUDICIARY

On By Mahvash K. M.In writing1 Comment 
LISTEN TO THE POEM BEING READ AT:  https://vm.tiktok.com/ZSeopaVK6/
She’s probably flown in on her witch’s broom 
As her sullen starchiness sweeps the room
She looks around her and she spies 
Young women having a good time 
She glowers at the girls 
No dupattas covering their shirts!
The lines between her brows grow grim
Huddling together like dowager twins 
Then they rise up in stark rebuke 
Clamouring, hammering “I’m judging you!”

He sits in the cafe looking around
A smoking gun dangling from his mouth 
As he peers over the smoke 
It’s gnarled fingers like a cloak 
Hide the vileness in his eyes
He stares at the woman who sits alone 
She ignores his lecherous stare
He taps his gun, his yellow teeth bared 
Smoke-grey lips curl into an ugly “U” 
Leering, sneering “I’m judging you!” 

This judiciary are the insidious dregs 
Of a society that has no legs 
No kind eyes. Their hearts are still  
Yet they sit there determined to fill 
Precious spaces in our lives
With their hats and their beehives. 
They hold on to crass old ways 
As their own insecurities play 
Out an age old tune 
Croaking, choking “I’m judging you!”

Give not a hoot nor a call
To them sitting in their Halls
Of Judgement. They are not fit 
Not a thimble, not a whit!
Stand your ground with those that will 
Force upon you their own bitter pills
Calmly cut them down to size 
Look them in their jaundiced eyes 
When you spy their mottled souls 
Their power fades to judge you at all 

Live your life how you will
Reach for the stars, ride the wind 
May you always find your spark 
Even when all around you is dark 
Move away when you feel dragged
Down, down; making you feel bad. 
Build within you your own compass
Of dignity, courage and kindness
So that the only one ever judging you 
Is YOU dear one, only ever you.

VERSE | THE QUINTESSENTIAL SINNER

On By Mahvash K. M.In poetry, socialissues, truth, verse, writingLeave a comment 
She gets out of the car, adjusting her shalwar 
The legs one mustn’t behold, out of their fabric strongholds
The ankles though, for a moment show
Their shameful curvature.

It can’t be helped you see, we are bipedal beings
But we can’t see the nuances of practical biology
When blinded by the nobility of our formidable patriarchy,
And cloaked in out great 
Fervour of faith.

And so she bends just a little to adjust the errant drape
And while she endeavours, to hold together 
Her blessed modesty
Some man out there, finds her morality in disrepair
What is she bending for, like a dirty, depraved w****!

And the floods of moral outrage at this corrupt spectacle 
In their godly country, cause a debacle
Every man takes it upon himself to deface this hideousness
He then looks to his companions, all now chomping at their bits

They rush upon this evil scene, of the wicked and immoral queen
For a queen she is, from head to toe.
Evil, wicked, shameful though!
She makes their blood gush in great floods
Testosterone-filled, Squelching like mud
She makes their heads swim in strange ways
Where she is master and they are slaves.

God does not permit, such sacrilege 
Where genders abandon their rightful places 
Men are meant to lead them forth
Moral compasses pointing true north
Held aloft by everything, a woman does, from breathing in
To the way she walks in crowded streets:
Ankles hidden, inconspicuous feet. 

And that is why an errant sister in faith
(A woman who is alone and out and about!)
Reeking of impudence in her unveiled state
(Putting her entire morality in doubt!)
May naturally be seen by her brothers devout 
As a wanton woman standing at hell’s gates.