Road Maps and Treasure Chests

I'm the kind of person that's easily overwhelmed. By the kindness of a waitress on an ordinary day or the breeze that blows in sunny afternoon. And on a daily basis, I'm overwhelmed by the indifference of the world in light of all the suffering that takes place. I get anxious about small things like passing a test or an interaction that didn't go as I had hoped. And I've always been the kind of person that can be overwhelmed by how much I have left to do and how little I've done.

So it's no surprise that I was standing in the make-up aisle when I was suddenly overcome by the number of products I was surrounded by. Highlights, blush, foundation, and mascara. Eye shadow, lip liner, and eyelash extensions. Age-defying cream and wrinkle prevention lotions. There are lotions and sprays and tanning beds. The magazines that tell us what we're supposed to look like, the headlines that call on us to be thin, tan, and flawless. The implications that our outward appearance is a determinant of our individual worth. And all I could think about was how many products tell us that the way we look, the way we are, is not enough.

I generally don't skim through magazines, but I hear the messages all the same. We tell them to ourselves. We've been trained to become insecure about a blemish on our face, a haircut that's a little too short, stretch marks on our stomachs, or weight gain in all of the wrong places. To be clear, I wear make-up on a daily basis and I workout as often as I can, I reward myself with new clothes and even bought Korean facial products. In no way am I suggesting that there's anything wrong with wanting to feel beautiful and confident, I just don't believe that a flawless outward appearance is the only way to get there.

In high school, my friend said that it didn't matter whether or not we understood calculus or algebra because at least we're pretty. While I understand that they're trying to be comforting, encouraging, and nice, I can remember my exact feeling of outrage. The anger that arose because I was supposed to feel relieved by someone's perception of our outward appearance; of the implication that the way we looked would somehow be enough to help us get a scholarship so that we could go to college. That somehow the way we looked would help to determine whether we would develop enough self-discipline to finish what we started, that somehow our appearance would help us to further our career. And I remember wondering when 'being pretty' began to outweigh our intelligence, capabilities, attitude, and our individual contributions to the world.

I find that sometimes we place so much emphasis on what our body looks like that we forget about the amazing things it does for us. Your legs, regardless of their length and width, have carried your body for all of these years. They have held you up on your weakest days and were there with you to jump for joy in moments of celebration. They've ran through the grass during hide and seek and they've rooted you to this earth. And your arms, they work. They can bend and they can write. They can pick up a child and hold another's hand. They've helped you to feel objects and to build things, they're your ability to reach out to the world. Your mind, it's a wonderful, magical, and complex tool that continues to guide your perception and understanding of the world. I could go on, but you get the point. Each and every one of your body parts has served you in some way. Each and every part continues to do something for your life. Let's not forget that every minute detail of your being is made with extraordinary and intricate capabilities.

I've always believed in not being attached to something as impermanent as our physical appearance. Of being attached to short hair, long hair, thick hair, or thin. Of not being attached to the number on a scale or the amount of space between your thighs. The way you look can change. It'll change and it's always changing. It has never been our job, responsibility, to be beautiful. We're not alive for that purpose. We all have so much more to offer the world than our physical appearance.

Who you are as a person, that's what matters. Are you beautiful on the inside?

I believe in intelligence, the ever expansion of your mind through books, travel, and new experiences. I believe in having conversations with people who have a different point of view than yours and in staying current on world events. Of challenging yourself to set higher expectations and to dream bigger dreams. And i believe in health, eating healthy, nourishing your body, and being good to your soul. I believe in exercising to add longevity to your life, to add strength to your mental and physical abilities, and to foster self-discipline. I believe in getting adequate amounts of sleep so that you're energized throughout the day. I believe in confidence and beauty in the form of a smile to a stranger, of a hand that reaches out to help without question or reservation.  Kindness towards others, determination to succeed, and the courage to forgive. That's beauty. Our internal integrity, our ability to respond with grace, the gifting of our time, and the mark we leave on the world. That's the beauty that should define us.

I believe in beauty that's real. In the naturalness that can be observed when you become who you are. I believe in our bodies serving as road maps to remind us each where we've been. That scar on my left knee from the bike crash I had as a 7-year-old kid, the burn scar on my right arm that I got from playing fireworks when I was 10. In growing old, your body having all the proof to show it. The wrinkles, flaws, blemishes, and stretch marks. Laugh lines for a life well lived. Grey hair for all of the challenges you've overcame. Extra weight around your midsection from the babies you've birthed, from the celebrations you've had the opportunity to experience, from those delicious desserts you were able to indulge in. Worry lines on your forehead for the uncertainty you felt during troubling days. Your body's a treasure chest holding within it all of the goodness you've received, the love you've given, and the pain you've endured.

You are more than beautiful. And you are more than something to be looked at. You're strong, brave, intelligent, kind and funny. You're a giver, receiver, dreamer, and a doer. You're as bright as the sun and you're so much more than the simplicity of your outward appearance. You are so much more.

Emma Watson on Feminism

This is the full transcript of Emma Watson's speech at the launch of the HeForShe campaign in New York City:

Today we are launching a campaign called for HeForShe. I am reaching out to you because we need your help. We want to end gender inequality, and to do this, we need everyone involved. This is the first campaign of its kind at the UN. We want to try to mobilize as many men and boys as possible to be advocates for change. And, we don’t just want to talk about it. We want to try and make sure that it’s tangible.

I was appointed as Goodwill Ambassador for UN Women six months ago. And, the more I spoke about feminism, the more I realized that fighting for women’s rights has too often become synonymous with man-hating. If there is one thing I know for certain, it is that this has to stop.

For the record, feminism by definition is the belief that men and women should have equal rights and opportunities. It is the theory of political, economic and social equality of the sexes.

I started questioning gender-based assumptions a long time ago. When I was 8, I was confused for being called bossy because I wanted to direct the plays that we would put on for our parents, but the boys were not. When at 14, I started to be sexualized by certain elements of the media. When at 15, my girlfriends started dropping out of sports teams because they didn’t want to appear muscly. When at 18, my male friends were unable to express their feelings.

I decided that I was a feminist, and this seemed uncomplicated to me. But my recent research has shown me that feminism has become an unpopular word. Women are choosing not to identify as feminists. Apparently, I’m among the ranks of women whose expressions are seen as too strong, too aggressive, isolating, and anti-men. Unattractive, even.

Why has the word become such an uncomfortable one? I am from Britain, and I think it is right I am paid the same as my male counterparts. I think it is right that I should be able to make decisions about my own body. I think it is right that women be involved on my behalf in the policies and decisions that will affect my life. I think it is right that socially, I am afforded the same respect as men.

But sadly, I can say that there is no one country in the world where all women can expect to see these rights. No country in the world can yet say that they achieved gender equality. These rights, I consider to be human rights, but I am one of the lucky ones.

My life is a sheer privilege because my parents didn’t love me less because I was born a daughter. My school did not limit me because I was a girl. My mentors didn't assume that I would go less far because I might give birth to a child one day. These influences were the gender equality ambassadors that made me who I am today. They may not know it, but they are the inadvertent feminists that are changing the world today. We need more of those.

And if you still hate the word, it is not the word that is important. It’s the idea and the ambition behind it, because not all women have received the same rights I have. In fact, statistically, very few have.

In 1997, Hillary Clinton made a famous speech in Beijing about women’s rights. Sadly, many of the things that she wanted to change are still true today. But what stood out for me the most was that less than thirty percent of the audience were male. How can we effect change in the world when only half of it is invited or feel welcome to participate in the conversation?

Men, I would like to take this opportunity to extend your formal invitation. Gender equality is your issue, too. Because to date, I’ve seen my father’s role as a parent being valued less by society, despite my need of his presence as a child, as much as my mother’s. I’ve seen young men suffering from mental illness, unable to ask for help for fear it would make them less of a man. In fact, in the UK, suicide is the biggest killer of men between 20 to 49, eclipsing road accidents, cancer and coronary heart disease. I’ve seen men made fragile and insecure by a distorted sense of what constitutes male success. Men don’t have the benefits of equality, either.

We don’t often talk about men being imprisoned by gender stereotypes, but I can see that they are, and that when they are free, things will change for women as a natural consequence. If men don’t have to be aggressive in order to be accepted, women won’t feel compelled to be submissive. If men don’t have to control, women won’t have to be controlled.

Both men and women should feel free to be sensitive. Both men and women should feel free to be strong. It is time that we all perceive gender on a spectrum, instead of two sets of opposing ideals. If we stop defining each other by what we are not, and start defining ourselves by who we are, we can all be freer, and this is what HeForShe is about. It’s about freedom.

I want men to take up this mantle so that their daughters, sisters, and mothers can be free from prejudice, but also so that their sons have permission to be vulnerable and human too, reclaim those parts of themselves they abandoned, and in doing so, be a more true and complete version of themselves.

You might be thinking, “Who is this Harry Potter girl, and what is she doing speaking at the UN?” And, it’s a really good question. I’ve been asking myself the same thing.

All I know is that I care about this problem, and I want to make it better. And, having seen what I’ve seen, and given the chance, I feel it is my responsibility to say something.

Statesman Edmund Burke said, “All that is needed for the forces of evil to triumph is for good men and women to do nothing.”

In my nervousness for this speech and in my moments of doubt, I told myself firmly, “If not me, who? If not now, when?” If you have similar doubts when opportunities are presented to you, I hope those words will be helpful. Because the reality is that if we do nothing, it will take seventy-five years, or for me to be nearly 100, before women can expect to be paid the same as men for the same work. 15.5 million girls will be married in the next 16 years as children. And at current rates, it won't be until 2086 before all rural African girls can have a secondary education.

If you believe in equality, you might be one of those inadvertent feminists that I spoke of earlier, and for this, I applaud you. We are struggling for a uniting word, but the good news is, we have a uniting movement. It is called HeForShe. I invite you to step forward, to be seen and to ask yourself, “If not me, who? If not now, when?”

Thank you very, very much.

So...what say you? 

Phenomenal Woman

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may tread me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you? 

Why are you beset with gloom? 

Cause I walk like I've got oil wells

Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken? 

Bowed head and lowered eyes? 

Shoulders falling down like teardrops.

Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you? 

Don't you take it awful hard

Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines

Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you? 

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I've got diamonds

At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame

I rise

Up from a past that's rooted in pain

I rise

I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,

Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise

Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear

I rise

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,

I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise

I rise

I rise.

- Maya Angelou (April 4, 1928 - May 28, 2014)

Girl Power

I must say I'm totally digging this new female empowerment vibe Disney's putting off in its movies lately. With Frozen, and now Maleficent, we see women saving themselves, women helping other women, women in power and women at the center of the story. I went to watch Maleficent with my man last weekend. I really wanted to watch it because Sleeping Beauty's one of my favorite story books when I was little, the time when I hated Maleficent. This time, it's the best story of Sleeping Beauty, and guess what, it's not about a woman going nuts and cursing a girl because she's jealous. She goes nuts and curses a girl because she herself was screwed over royally by a selfish man. And this time, it's not about Sleeping Beauty. It's about Maleficent. And I don't hate her anymore. 

So here's how the story of Sleeping Beauty should sound like now:

Once upon a time, there were 2 kingdoms, the human kingdom and this magical kingdom next door with fairies and creatures and happiness. They didn't mess with each other and all's well. But then there's a boy, Stefan, who came into the magical kingdom and started stealing stuff. Maleficent, just a girl but still the a leader among the fairies, met Stefan. Instead of killing him (which they don't do in the joyous place), she walked him out of the kingdom and told him not to come back. Of course he didn't listen to her, and of course she's touched by the gesture he made by throwing his iron ring away when she told him it burned her. So he came back. And they became friends. Then more than friends. Then he kissed her with so-called true love's kiss. 

So of course it wasn't true love's kiss. It never is, now is it? The point is, this bastard left after that and Maleficent's sad, but still didn't let that stop her from becoming the most powerful fairy in the land. Stefan, who's a poor peasant boy, grew up to be some lackey man to the king. When the greedy king came to try to take over Maleficent's magical lands, she kicked his ass so hard he's sent home to die. The king vowed that anybody who kills Maleficent will take over the throne. So Stefan reconnected with her, drugged her and instead of killing her as she slept, he cut off her wings and took away a vital part of who she was. While she still had powers, the happiness was gone. She's in physical and emotional pain. This joyous kingdom turned dark. Maleficent's jubilant spirit turned vengeful.

Stefan became king and had a baby girl named Aurora. Maleficent cursed the baby girl as revenge, saying she'll fall into a deep sleep from which she can only be awoken by true love’s kiss. King Stefan hid the baby away in the woods to be raised by 3 fairies where she's constantly watched by Maleficent. Long story short, the sweet princess thought Maleficent was her fairy godmother and she started spending time with her. Maleficent grew to love Aurora and ended up saving her from the curse when she kissed the sleeping beauty on the cheek. Aurora ended up saving Maleficent by releasing her wings that her father held in captivity to be reunited with the fairy, leading Maleficent to her former greatness. The 2 kingdoms were peacefully united from then on and they lived happily ever after.

Oh I love Angelina Jolie. She's perfect to play such an amazing role as Maleficent. She's a wonderful role model to women. She's smart, beautiful, talented, she plays strong characters, she's a humanitarian, she seems like an amazing mother. 

And this is what I learned from this tale:

Being happy and in awe of the world around you will not only make everything better, it could help you overcome the evil forces in your life.

Forge unlikely alliances. Sometimes those are the most rewarding ones.

True love does exist, just not in the way you envisioned.

Taking down a powerful one isn't easy. Actually, it's pretty much impossible.

Support other women. Love other women. Don't be disrespectful to your sister, mother, girlfriend, female colleagues, fiancee, wife. Be genuine and pleasant with those women who do have ill will toward you (or who you think might have ill will toward you) because you never know, those are the ones who might end up being important to you.

 An act of true love doesn't always come from a man.

Life's gonna take things that make you who you are away from you, but don't get bitter and vengeful, open your heart and you'll be able to reclaim those things. 

So that's it. I think every girl should see this movie.

Best Days of Our Lives Haven’t Happened Yet

Someday I will host dinner parties and you will always be invited. We'll eat lovely food and perhaps the first time I'll try and have a hand at cooking a real big meal. If it doesn't work so well, the next time I'll just have something ordered-in. But nevertheless, food will be plenty and drinks will be flowing. 

We'll come together and every single time the conversation will start with something along the lines of, "where does the time go? It seems just like yesterday..." and for a moment we'll all sigh and smile at that truth, and the fact it'll be mentioned, just the same, at our next dinner party. We'll then talk of our lives. We'll share in roars of laughter and bicker about politics and how some of us still listen to Taylor Swift..but only because our quirks and differences are what we truly love about one another. We'll reminisce about all the memories we share and chuckle at our past selves.

"How could we have been so silly?" we'll say.

"We worried about so many unnecessary things!" we'll all agree.

We'll laugh until we cry and cry until we laugh. We'll find ourselves chatting on and on about how our loves drive us bonkers but we all will smile at one another, knowing that none of us would trade them for anything. We will then joke and point out our most embarrassing moments and then we'll sigh and say in unison, "how did we get through all of that?" And we'll not say it aloud, but in our hearts we will think, "it was crazy, exhausting and one of the most confusing times of our lives but we wouldn't change it for the world."

"Not one bit," we will silently repeat.

Someday.

This is How You Lose Her

Here's to all the guys, dudes and gentlemen out there..

This is how you lose her.

You lose her when you forget to remember the little things that mean the world to her: the sincerity in a stranger's voice during a trip to the grocery, the delight of finding something lost or forgotten like a sticker from when she was 5, the selflessness of a child giving a part of his meal to another, the scent of new books in the store, the surprise short but honest notes she tucks in her journal and others you could only see if you look closely.

You must remember when she forgets.

You lose her when you don't notice that she notices everything about you: your use of the proper punctuation that tells her continuation rather than finality, your silence when you're about to ask a question but you think anything you're about to say to her would be silly, your mindless humming when it's too quiet, your handwriting when you sign your name in blank sheets of paper, your muted laughter when you're trying to be polite, and more and more of what you are, which you don't even know about yourself, because she pays attention.

She remembers when you forget.

You lose her for every second you make her feel less and less of the beauty that she is. When you make her feel that she's replaceable. She wants to feel cherished. When you make her feel that you're fleeting. She wants you to stay. When you make her feel inadequate. She wants to know that she's enough and she doesn't need to change for you, nor for anyone else because she's she and she's beautiful, kind and good.

You must learn her.

You must know the reason why she's silent. You must trace her weakest spots. You must write to her. You must remind her that you're there. You must know how long it takes for her to give up. You must be there to hold her when she's about to. You must love her because many have tried and failed. And she wants to know that she's worthy to be loved, that she's worthy to be kept.

And, this is how you keep her.

Keep Her Close

Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes, who has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve. You'll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She's the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she has found the book she wants. You see that weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a secondhand book shop? That's the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow and worn.

She's the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she's kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author's making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book. Buy her another cup of coffee. Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce's Ulysses she's just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It's easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry and in song. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she's going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does. She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world. Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who read understand that all things must come to end, but that you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two. Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 am clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She'll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are. You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she's sick. Over Skype. You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn't burst and bled out all over your chest yet. 

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you're better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes.

Dear Mommy

Dear mommy,

Everyday I watch you so busy running the house. It's fun watching and trying to copy you on your every move. You laughed when I try but I guess that's normal for a baby. I get so curious with everything. It's like the activities at home are never ending.

One of my favorite activity is hovering the carpet with a machine called vacuum. At least that's what you call it although I have no idea what vacuum means. I just know you'll be rushing to the hallway, opening a huge door and inside there is was. A huge machine with 2 wheels and a very long tail. Sometimes I made you mad by playing with the door and going inside the store room where the machine is kept. You said it's dirty but I just thought it's fun. When you're ready to vacuum, you pulled a long cable from the machine and plugged it on the wall. Then I know which button to press next. But every time I press a loud noise come out from the machine and it freaks me out I'll be running to you for a hug. Then all would be alright. You said there are a lot of vacuum cleaning types and styles sold here at John Lewis.

Another one of my favorite activity in the house is cooking. The house smells heaven when you cook. I hate baby food. I want curry and lamb. Oh yes. You heard me. It amazes me how you can cook in a very short time. You said you used another loud machine that makes your life easier. I know because I can hear it miles away. The machine can chop onion or whatever and it won't teared your eyes. And you love it. It saves time too. I think it is called chopper or food processor and it's essential for mom who wants to save time. You said food processors are easily available online here waiting to find a home.

It's fun mom. Everything seems new, exciting and I want to explore all. But for now I think I'll just eat my toes to find out what they taste like.

With love,
Your little baby.

Source

I wish I can write a letter like this to my mom when I was a kid. 

Happy Mother's Day. ^^

Me and Mom :)

I Am a Swan

Dear culture that raised me,

Growing up, you read me the Ugly Duckling. And for years I believed that was me. For so long you taught me I was nothing more than a bad copy of the standard (men).

I couldn’t run as fast or lift as much. I didn’t make the same money and I cried too often. I grew up in a man’s world where I didn’t belong.

And when I couldn’t be him, I wanted only to please him. I put on your make-up and wore your short skirts. I gave my life, my body, my dignity, for the cause of being pretty. I knew that no matter what I did, I was worthy only to the degree that I could please and be beautiful for my master. And so I spent my life on the cover of Cosmo and gave my body for you to sell.

I was a slave, but you taught me I was free. I was your object, but you swore it was success. You taught me that my purpose in life was to be on display, to attract, and be beautiful for men. You had me believe that my body was created to market your cars. And you raised me to think I was an ugly duckling. But you lied.

Islam tells me, I’m a swan. I’m different, it’s meant to be that way. And my body, my soul, was created for something more.

So I am honored. But it is not by my relationship to men. My value as a woman is not measured by the size of my waist or the number of men who like me. My worth as a human being is measured on a higher scale: a scale of righteousness and piety. And my purpose in life – despite what the fashion magazines say – is something more sublime than just looking good for men.

And so God tells me to cover myself, to hide my beauty and to tell the world that I’m not here to please men with my body; I’m here to please God. God elevates the dignity of a woman’s body by commanding that it be respected and covered, shown only to the deserving, only to the man I marry.

I’m not here to be on display. And my body is not for public consumption. I will not be reduced to an object, or a pair of legs to sell shoes. I’m a soul, a mind, a servant of God. My worth is defined by the beauty of my soul, my heart, my moral character. So, I won’t worship your beauty standards, and I don’t submit to your fashion sense. My submission is to something higher.

With my veil I put my faith on display, rather than my beauty. My value as a human is defined by my relationship with God, not by my looks. I cover the irrelevant. And when you look at me, you don’t see a body. You view me only for what I am: a servant of my Creator.

You see, as a Muslim woman, I’ve been liberated from a silent kind of bondage. I don’t answer to the slaves of God on earth. I answer to their King.

P.S: Thanks for your moment. This inspirational letter is written by Yasmin Mogahed. Such a beautiful thoughts on hijab and women.