Words by Tehseen Huq
I believe women are a work of art to behold. We are unique in our own ways, yet one thing we have in common is that our beauty, in all its feminine glory, never fades. I think the ageing process is marvelous. Wrinkles appear on our faces as signs of wisdom and crow’s feet stretch across our skin: visible testaments of viewing a lifetime of colours, sunrises, and sunsets. The skin becomes softer showing how much we’ve held and touched in the journey of life. Why does the media denigrate a woman once they’ve reached a certain age? Isn’t this an insinuation that beauty is contingent upon youth? We think admiration of a woman is conditional. Once her allure diminishes after an expiration date, we disregard her as if she never existed. The same can’t be said for men though. The glaring double standards make my blood boil.
A woman inherits the essence of Mother Nature herself. She can create life in all its glory. Her body serves as a house for an infant, facilitating their growth, nourishing their body, and nurturing their soul. How often do we acknowledge the reality of how resilient we are?
Growing up in a South Asian community, I was never told that I could perceive my femininity as a gift. I was taught to conceal my body from the prying eyes of men who saw me as an object to be devoured. I felt like my body was an obtrusive inconvenience. I was only prey dreading the day someone would consume me and spit out my skeletal remains. I feel like a woman’s beauty is a double-edged sword. We are cherished for our power of seduction when we can appeal to men. However, we are simultaneously disparaged for the display of the same body that brings men pleasure. This paradox is ludicrous. How can you assassinate a woman’s character when you revel in her beauty and nudity? We can wield power with our bodies.
My mother used to tell me my beauty is sacred. It’s as if it’s a flickering flame that must be protected with a shield so that it isn’t extinguished by external forces waiting to engulf it.
Imagine how invincible we would be if we could look in the mirror and realise that we are enough with all our curves and imperfections. From day one, we have everything we needed from our mothers and our mothers had everything they needed from their grandmothers, and so on. The strength of womanhood has been passed down for generations and we have been blinded by the world, deluded into thinking that we are impotent.
It’s time to take back the power that we have relinquished. I hope for a future where women are celebrated for their beauty and their ability to express their sexual prowess. I hope for a future where our voices can be coalesced into one deafening scream, demanding to be heard. Imagine the collective sigh of relief and the palpable ecstasy in a utopian world where women are indestructible forces to be reckoned with.
