What is Woman?

 

Woman.
Why must I be the embodiment of nature?
The bearer of burdens. Silent.
The one who ‘makes do’ with little.
What if I want to be more than a person who endures or a symbol of procreation, beauty or sacrifice?
What if I want to be more than just an hoist to shoulder your life?

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Soroosh

We met in the mall

And you were in that dark green coat I would come to know

Timberland shoes, out-soles filled with snow

You smiled and shook my hand

An unusual blend of a formal yet playful, easy-going man.

Nut-brown eyes gazing through your spectacles, you told me you came from Iran

And immediately my mind thought “war”

I told you and you said “its what media says but it is not who we are”.

I knew that.

I blame the news for staining minds with conditioned stimulus.

No matter, for nothing came between us

And your endearing accent that some Canadians laughed at

Saying your sentences lacked intricacy like a child just learning to speak

I had an accent too but without bias I couldn’t understand their critique

Because you’re a brilliant engineer student with a personality like a kaleidoscope.

Your actions are usually practical yet considerate, your advice meted with kind hope.

You made me chatty, you made me laugh, shed and forget my skin.

You loved me without expectations, made me feel like kin.

I was surprised that beyond our differences we had the capacity to connect across cultural miles.

You, from the vilified Middle East and me a wide-eyed girl from the isles.

You, of Muslim faith and I, an undeclared Christian

You, with your interest in archaeology and me with my liking for the priscian.

You, with your craving for kalam polow, frittata and pita

Me, with my Bourbon St.Grill, milk-filled coffee and cheese pizza.

Unexpected start to an unforeseeable end.

What are the odds, my male best friend.

 

 

Jamaican Waist Trainers, Best in the World!

Two ladies, tourists, were talking to Sammie while he drove them about in his taxi

The girls asked if he liked eating cheese with broccoli and they laughed when he said “me don’t like brackli.”

One asked “ok, do you know a gym I could go to in this parish? Or a store that sells waist trainers?”

He said “you don’t need none of dat this island will get you down to size like a strainer…

Just take a walk to a cabin up there, right there to the dewy green mountain

Your legs will cry out for murder, Miss Ladies this is certain.

And the hills are like obstacle courses, I doubt you will return with all your nails intact

If you do, is a miracle, look out for Jesus knockin at your door, tat-tat!!

Or…maybe carry four coconuts on your way from the rastaman fruit stall

I guarantee your arms will be as firm and toned as the great China wall.

Or jus go to a local community and pass some people’s gate

Let the mongrels chase you round,make you break track records to date.

An’ you don’t need no waist trainers, just take a kingston taxi day-to-day

I promise the driver will squeeze you in tighter than donald trump toupee.

Over time your waist will get smaller from the passengers digging into your sides

And you’ll shape little in the middle like squeezed flouride

Toothpaste, that is – and I sure this is better than any waist shackle you can find online

Let your environment be your trainer than a money-grubbing gym coach all the time.

Here is where you come off ladies, have a safe trip, you hear?

And thanks much for the tip, ma babyloves take care!”