Love Vs. Feminism

I will never be like my mum..
and steam rice and wash dishes
starch shirt collars and beat clinckled towels..
I told my self
since the age of 10..
when the first inklings of feminism
seeped through the crack of my skull..

From then on I huffed and puffed..
Colour coded my notes..
Practiced double time for my debates
and worked all night to win some silly vote by 2 points..
simply because i was running against a guy..

The world was unfair..
the world was imbalanced
if there were 51% women
why the hell are we so subjugated?...
The cat calls urked me
The bus groping internally shattered me
The after 6 curfew imprisoned me.
and all that wrath...
all that hurt..
all that pain..
I carefully harboured..
and lovingly nursed
like stirring a pot of bubbling red tomato pouri..
I didnt let go..
and bit by bit
like a heating red hot iron..
my anger grew..
my frustration balooned...

and the only way to vent it out
was to be better than ALL the men
to beat them at it all
and to shout slogans at anti-domestic violence rallies on the few free weekends
and wear white bands decrying the "imbalance of power"

I carefully avoided the kitchen..
and never learnt the complex manouvres of a high-end washing machine..
simply because all that represented servitude..
hogging for some pig of a man..
washing his socks and arranging them in pairs..
according to the right colour and day of the week..

but....
was it that I hated?..
didn't mum do that out of love as oppsed to obligation?
maybe it was something else..
something else i'm trying hard to block out....
erase from my mind..

maybe it was the nights she cried..
the times she blew into a rage..
and used me as a poison vessel to channel her frustrations...
deep in my heart i know she wasn't happy...
and HE was the effigy i burnt in my mind...
as the cause for all that suffering..

maybe i am wrong...
maybe i am right..
but how would I ever know..
my little mind could not grasp the intricacies of their complex tango..
but the deep grooves of love and hate..
for the most important man in my life
wreaked havoc in a tiny heart
and then spilled over...
to blot my view
of the whole of "man" kind..

Men were toys..
to be used and dished out..
to control and get things done..
because the moment you surrender..
they'll break each bone..
and leave you shattered........

So a fortress I built..
around my little heart...
with misnormers of feminist bricks..
cemented by bad childhood memories..
my heart was icy..
my consciounse numb..
as I shattered honest hearts..
with a cold touch of a medusa..

but then........
a fresh wind blew..
and a small creeper..
firmly took root.
in a tiny spot
that still had a bit of compassion left..

and bit by bit it grew...
creeping through the sordid bricks
of hurt, mistrust and belligerence..
cracking and chipping...
until they fell..
one at a time...

A fresh ray of hope is warming the trapped little heart...
a fresh breeze is threatening to uproot the grey cobwebs of a cynical mind..
as the "Serious" boring unkept woman
who thought abstract and planned to save the world
is walking with a lightness of spirit.
and and a happy skip skip..

but then...
feelings are.. but trascending mists..
that cloud our minds..
and slowly dissipate.....

so I wait..
with unpracticed patience...
with expectation in my eyes..
for a happier tommorow..
or a blissfull mirage........