Because You Are A Woman #MyDressMyChoice
The narrative reads that because you are a woman, your worth is measured by what you wear, how many children you have, and which man you go home to at the end of the day. Forget the fact that you have built a good career, you are doing something that you love and that your life is fulfilling. You are not happy, will not be happy, can not be happy if you are not living your life according to the narrative.
When it comes to your dressing, they will sometimes want you to dress in a tight dress, which is shy of touching your beautiful knees. They will whistle when you pass by. They will look at you as they bite their lips lustfully, taking you in from head to toe. They will approve. And they will tell you that you really do look good, beautiful.
Other times however, they will not approve of your tight dress or short skirts. Only whores wear short dresses and skirts, they will decide. And if you do, it means that you want to have sex with any man on the streets. You don’t have to say it, it is a given.
Because you are a woman, you should know when and how you are expected to dress-stick to the program. Failure to do so might find you being stripped of all your clothing and dignity in broad daylight. Who will care to help you? You asked for it, they will all say. They will say that you are dressed indecently. My heart goes out to the ladies who have been stripped by rogue men in the recent past. I can only imagine the humiliation.
I can imagine that you wore that dress or skirt in the morning and you felt really good because you looked good. You walked out of your house feeling great and ready to face the day in the office, or in school, or doing whatever it is that you were to do. Your self esteem was up there. You are minding your own business when some guy who imagines that he deserves to have a piece of you, tries to catch your attention. He tries his luck with you. Maybe he smiles. Maybe he calls you sweet nothings “Sasa mresh” “Si umebeba!” “Si unakaa poa mami” but you are definitely not feeling the guy. His lines are tired and he hasn’t showered for days. Where is a mob to forcefully bath him when you need it?
He doesn’t take too kindly to your rejection. He is most probably high on weed or something. What, you think you are too good for him? You whore? You think you are better than all other women? You are no different from them all. He becomes hostile. He is spoiling for a fight so that he can show you what he is capable of. Wewe humjui! He touches you inappropriately. Goes ahead to slap your rear as he squeezes it for good measure. What will you do now huh? What? I can have you if I want. You’re dressed like a whore. Yes. Now you are dressed like a whore. In fact, you are indecent and immoral. Yes. Because you are a woman, a piece of meat, and you dared reject him. He insults you. You are incensed at being touched inappropriately. And so you should. So. You. Should!
He sees you getting mad. Because you are a woman, he asks what you will do. Gets his fellow men to join him. “Unaringia nani?” “Unafikiria hatujawai ona wazuri kukuliko?” “Who do you think you are?” He grabs you some more. And then he starts to undress you. He said he could have you didn’t he? He will show you that he is a man. He is powerful. And you are a woman. You are weak. You are nothing and you stand no chance fighting against him. Not a chance. Let’s see you try.
Emboldened by the presence of his boys around him, he goes ahead to humiliate you. He sees the fear in your eyes, soon mingled with tears. He laughs. Now who’s the man bitch? He is the man. Because you are a woman, you will suffer the humiliation of daring to reject a man.
Here he is, giving you a bit of his precious time, and what? You throw it back at him? Who do you think you are? Woman?
Because you are a woman, you will dress the way they want you to dress. They will feast their eyes on your miniskirt today, and tomorrow they will pull it off of you. Because you are a woman, they will look at you but never see you. They will see the size of your behind. The swell of your boobs. The silkiness of your thighs. They will fantasize how they would enjoy ravishing you. Oh, you will let them ravish you. You should let them ravish you. You are a woman after all. A whore.
This narrative makes my blood boil. It needs to change. Has to change. It must change because I am a woman. And I will have none of it!
So. Are you angry yet?