when my mother and sister found out that i have ‘inked’ myself…they did not speak to me for a week (it felt like one whole era though)…but being the stubborn person that i sometimes am (or really am), i decided not to start any conversation with them…it was this heavy, awkward and dead silence…as if someone actually passed away. i mean, it is not like i killed someone (though there might have been moments i probably wanted to do just that), or got myself involved in some street pharmaceutical gang (or really got into drugs) or came home one day, pregnant, hapless and sans a husband, or lost my sense of direction…
…i did not speak to them because i know that it was (or is) my right to uphold the truths that i honor
…i did not speak to them because i refuse to be categorized, stereotyped and
…i refuse to be reduced to someone who is simply wasting her life away
i am not any less than who i am.
i embrace my diversity and my individuality.
i am myself.
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