As a woman, we tend to learn early on in life how to navigate in a world that does not value us. We are told that we are made with sugar and spice and all things nice. We carry a lot on our shoulders because we are groomed to become—good wives. Be the-- yes woman. On the other hand, our male counterparts are taught to rely on us. We are supposed to do things for our brothers. Take care of the home. I don’t know about your culture, but my other culture dictates that --If a man makes a mistake a woman is looked at as not being able to take care of her home. If a man cheats, it’s the woman’s fault for not providing an environment conducive for him not to.

It is these dangerous expectations, that rip us men and women apart. We are not allowed to raise our voices. Our discomfort, our pain and our voice of anguish is reduced to—“that time of the month” . We are reduced to being dramatic. If we are assertive, we are demanding. What does it really mean to be a woman?

Discovering the core of being a woman, means going through the motions of recognizing your strength. That the world around you does not define you. The world does not understand the inner turmoil you experience. When you wake up one day feeling on top of the world. The next, you feel like the rug has been pulled from under you. Subliminal messages keep telling us that --you are not enough. If you demand an answer, you are being too dramatic. Where what you can and can’t do is decided by people, who know not, of your capabilities. Your strength. Your dreams. Your hidden talent. You learn to be ashamed of your body, because you don’t have the impossible body size that is perfect. The impossible body size that’s been grossly photo shopped or displayed by a pre-teen or early teen whom they have sexualized. We forget that our bodies carry a lot. That our existence is because of the women that came before us. That their world and ours may be different but the pain we share resonates deep within our core.

As a woman, our bodies are vessels and nurtured to carry life. To some extent, it is a way that it is abused that makes us feel like we are nothing. Being a mother, you cease to be a woman. You are reduced to becoming a source of nursing to your newborn. If you’re married you become a wife. A wife tends to mean that you are not desirable and you should dress according to your stance—a mother. What should a mother really dress like? Does she cease to be a woman once she brings forth a human life? What about the father’s or husbands? Are dress codes and decency imposed on them as well? To some switching roles without knowledge and preparation of what is to come, makes women lose themselves. Who are they supposed to be? The pressure to perform perfectly in all roles limits us.

Instead we tend to focus on what others are doing, as a form of escapism. We learn not to focus on ourselves. When someone changes their lifestyle for better. We feel threatened. They are shaking up the status-quo. The truth is, deep down, we are jealous. Jealous that this person is getting their life together. Living, because we chose not to. It could be out of circumstance or a mental prison we create by telling ourselves that --this is how things should be. Even though, every day our soul screams for change. When we see others living out lives, we think it’s normal, not knowing that maybe it’s a façade.

Maybe just maybe, there is something wrong with the way we are treated. Where sexual harassment is reduced to teasing or something we should get over. Where we are expected to give men passes for cheating, being promiscuous, making mistakes and in some cases their behaviour is expected.

We are conditioned by seeing how the men before us treated our mothers. That whatever happened seemed to be the norm. So, we tend to settle for what we think we deserve. If the men in our lives sexually abused us, we settle for those that mentally abuse us—because it’s better than what we experienced. Unless, we break the cycle and realize that abuse is abuse. Whether we can see it physically or not. That just because we were raised a certain way, we are not really defined by that. At the end of the day, those that raised us, did the best they knew how. Regardless, of what background they came from. They may also have their own burdens that they may have projected towards us. When did we subconsciously give others permission over our minds and bodies?

What do you define as love? I define love as self-love. Learning to love every inch of your body, regardless of size. Nourishing it enough so it can thrive and function the way it is supposed to. Through movement, through being mindful of what you allow in your life. Positivity. Checking in with yourself on how you feel and if you feel less than what you did before, figuring how to take it up a notch. Finding friendships and companies that nourish your body, mind and soul. That do not make you feel exhausted after an encounter. As women when we are drained we cannot give ourselves 100% especially, from the space of an empty cup. An empty cup that when we try to fill you are deemed as selfish. How can we serve from a space of emptiness? If we just had an ounce of compassion for ourselves. Imagine how great it would be for the environment around us, that breeds apathy.

Love yourselves enough, to know you are enough.

Happy International Women's Day 2018 my fellow women appreciate yourself everyday.

Namaste