Being a woman comes to me naturally
If not me, then who?

I was never asked to be one
I was never asked to cook
To cry less
To dress modestly
To be a mother
To be a server
Being a woman comes to me naturally.
 

A house full of fetid people
And a sink full of dirty dishes
I was never asked to attend
But if not me, then who?
My divine purpose
My fair skin
My unbearably vivid grace
If not me, then who?

So I never bothered to ask
The space between your thighs and mine
Handed me a spatula
And etched in a line

The dread anchored within my lacerated bosom
And the bravado glistening in your chest
Decided my divine purpose
My very own existence
My beige and pink entity
That no longer remained mine.

Can you please tell me now?
Who are you?
The flagbearer of my being?
The apostle of bravado?
Go, tell your father
Do not look for her anymore.

Today,

My original sin
My scarlet incarnation
It is all mine.
I am my very own being.
I own it all.

Jannatul Naeem Tasmiah is a student of English Literature at Jahangirnagar University.