the quiet weight of simply existing

there was a time,
when i thought that dressing in baggy, masculine clothes
would be my shield.
it became a ritual: oversized shirts, loose shorts,
clothes that hid my shape,
clothes that screamed “don’t look at me.”
yet, despite the effort,
the catcalls still found their way to me.
and it left me wondering—
if this is what happens when i hide,
what would happen if i dared to be seen?

this fight isn’t mine alone.
i once stumbled across a post,
a question posed to girls:
what would you do if men didn’t exist for a day?
the answer was overwhelming,
and heartbreaking in its simplicity.
we would walk the streets at night,
dressed in dresses and skirts,
without the fear of being watched,
without the fear of being judged.
it’s the battle that every girl faces,
quietly, subtly, every single day.

and it’s not just about avoiding attention.
it’s about surviving a world
that demands we fit into molds we were never meant to wear.
the pressure to be perfect,
to be both physically flawless and emotionally impenetrable.
society demands us to be everything
and nothing all at once—
to be strong without being too loud,
soft without being weak,
beautiful without being vain.
it’s a weight that’s invisible,
but it sinks deep into your bones.

being a girl means living in a world
where your sensitivity is seen as a flaw,
where your emotions are regarded as weaknesses.
it means enduring the pain of something as natural as menstruation
without a word of complaint,
because somehow, it’s supposed to be easy.
it means carrying the immense weight
of potentially bringing new life into the world,
and having it be your responsibility,
even though it’s not always wanted.
it’s an unfair burden we’re expected to bear,
with no acknowledgment, no empathy.

yet, despite all of this,
justice is not guaranteed.
discrimination is ever-present,
equality remains an elusive dream.
we fight every day
against barriers built to hold us back.
and when we do fight,
we are told we are too loud, too aggressive, too angry.
but we’re just trying to be heard.
just trying to make our way
in a world that tells us to shrink.

this isn't about aligning with any ideology.
it's about the raw, uncomfortable truth
of what it means to be a girl,
to be a woman in this world.
the fear is real.
it’s in the way we look over our shoulder,
in the way we adjust our steps,
in the way we choose our words—
all because we know what’s lurking in the shadows.
and what hurts the most is that we’ve learned to live with it.

if i had one wish,
it wouldn't be for wealth, or power, or anything for me.
it would be for safety—
for the freedom to simply exist without fear,
for the ability to walk the streets
without looking over my shoulder.
a world where girls and women could move
through life, unencumbered by the weight of violence,
unburdened by judgment,
where our worth isn’t measured by the size of our body
or the softness of our voice.

because the reality is this:
when half of the population lives in fear,
when half of the population feels like a shadow,
it holds us all back.
we are all diminished.
the world cannot move forward
when so many of us are afraid to walk through it.
true progress comes when every single person
feels valued, safe, and free to dream—
when our rights are not questioned,
when our voices are heard without hesitation.

this isn’t about ideologies,
it’s about what’s fundamentally right.
it’s about creating a world
where safety isn't a wish,
but a reality for everyone,
where every person can thrive,
without fear of discrimination or harm.

and so, as we strive towards this world,
let's set aside all labels.
let’s forget the noise for a moment,
and focus on what really matters:
creating a world where we are all free—
free to be who we are,
to live without fear,
to walk through this world as we were meant to.
this isn’t just a wish;
it’s a need.
and it can change everything.

in the end, being a girl,
a woman,
is not about fitting into someone else's idea of who we should be.
it’s about recognizing the reality of our struggle,
the quiet weight of simply existing in a world
that is not made for us,
yet somehow, we still find a way to live.
because we are more than the roles we've been given,
we are more than the expectations,
and we are stronger than anyone gives us credit for.
we are not just surviving—we are rising.