In Honor of A Woman

Quote: It is a woman that opens the eyes of the world to infinite possibilities. It is the woman. - Bonface Morris.

Dedicated to my mother, Mrs. Tabitha Olumi.

I love you mom.

And in celebration to International Women's Day, 2015 (March 8, 2015). #MakeItHappen

Long before there was civilization, they (women) were thought only to be servants: servants of men.

The only time it felt right for a woman to say a thing to a man was when giving birth.

Only then was she allowed to yell things at him - to justifiably vent her inner sorrows. But even then, she was careful. She was careful lest her pain would cause her family to part with goats and bullocks; and herself, the stigma of being called a witch.

It was so common then. And real. It was common and real how women suffered silently under the dictatorship of men. Men knew exactly how to manipulate situations to favor them. So the woman always suffered in silence.

She was thought to be an object.

Of pleasure. Of ridicule. Of lessness. 

A conduit for pain.

She was known to be strong but useless. Present but voiceless. Needed but irrelevant.

The girl child existed only as an animal would exist today.

None of her words mattered. None of her feelings and emotions and lamentations and visions and dreams mattered.

She was the uncelebrated martyr. A useful ghost.

That was back then.

That was until civilization slightly came to her rescue.

That was then. That was before civilization held us in its arms.

So when the world turned around and in came a people dressed in wool and speaking not her language; but who oppressed man and vaguely favored the girl child, we smiled.

No, the woman smiled. Wryly.

Wryly, because, as she came to realize, not all of us wanted her free.

Some still wanted - and still demand even today - the services of the slave woman. They demanded to have their slaves back...

Some still wanted to misuse her freedom. Not to fight and bleed for it but to eat it.

Some still wanted to continue enjoying her pain. To bathe, busk and oil themselves in it.

Some still thought (and think even today), "She is lesser than us. Let her kneel as we walk..." They wanted her as an elephant would want the ground. They wanted her as the hen would want her dough.

Some still made merry at the oppression of the girl child and the woman.

Even now, even today, some hide in religion - that good thing that civilization fetched us - to justify their wickedness against the girl child.

Some hide in traditions. Some in intellectualism. Some in capitalism. Some in sexism. Some in uncontrolled narcissism. Some in aberrated philosophies.

All to the sounding of the drums of her oppression.

But the woman - that voice that speaks so firmly yet regarded so lowly - has not turned to dust yet.

Not yet. Not just yet.

She still fights. She still resiliently stages her defense against these devils.

Even when her fighting is silenced, she still fights on.

She fights on because she knows that it is a woman that opens the eyes of the world to infinite possibilities. It is the woman.

....................................

See, when I look at my mom, a woman, the woman - all she is in her countenance - I tend to think that this is the reason she has fought so many wars to get us to where we are.

Wait, you have to get it right.

My mom (and probably yours) got married in a generation when the so-called affirmative action had not even opened its eyes. When people still thought rights and equality are the same thing. Days when the so-called human rights or women rights were still toddlers - still begging for a feeding here and a feeding there, and of course, from time to time, naturally oversleeping.

She was still a girl then. (I saw her photo somewhere, and daaaaamn, she was beautiful.)

Then she picked up on a task she had only been hearing about. Gave birth to five of us. And we've given her hell for a while. But we are who we are today because through her hands, God molded us.

Nothing can compare to who she is to me. To us.

She is irreplaceable.

Listen. 

No one tolerates and yet loves a child so deeply like the mother does.

No one assures the child that it's all gonna be okay like the mother does. No one spanks a child like a mother - hard but soothingly. 

There may be bad mothers out there - bad women - but their tenderness towards their children is unequaled...

And for all this plus more, I choose to celebrate her. To celebrate women.

I choose to celebrate my mom and every other woman in my life.

Every girl, every lady, every mother, every wife. Every woman.

I celebrate you all.

....................................

Woman, you are special.

You're petty, but you are special. Petty but unique. You have a pettiness that makes you special.

We may shun at your fastidious obsession with detail, but you're special.

I celebrate your love for color; just how you are obsessed with seeing every tiny color in its rightful place amazes me. (Like you all decided to "paint it purple" this year during the #MakeItHappen celebrations.)

I celebrate your vigilance. You fight for what is right and good for the children you've born and the people you love without looking back.

I celebrate your tolerance. Yes you can forgive the many sins we men commit so endlessly so many times, but when venting, your wrath knows no end.

I celebrate your resilience and grace. You always bounce back. Always. You smile in the midst of storms, and waves make you stand stronger.

I celebrate your kindness and gentleness. Your hands have forged the paths of many. Without your tenderness, the world would be a sea of wars.

I celebrate your ability to enjoy pain, the pain of giving birth.

I celebrate your selflessness. Just how you'd rather go hungry than suffer your children lack education is a sacrifice we all cannot explain.

I celebrate your strength. That you're called weak yet you're the helper - the support we lean on.

I celebrate your fervency in prayer and service to God; there ain't nobody as dedicated to the Lord as a woman!!

I celebrate your intuition and wisdom. Our homes would be doomed if it were not for your ability to clearly see the future ad to plan it.

I celebrate your weaknesses; because they never hold you back from being all you can be.

I celebrate your sacrifice; it has opened the doors of our eyes to endless possibilities.

I celebrate your love; there ain't nothing like the love of a woman.

Even the good Lord said it: he who finds a wife (a woman) finds a good thing.

I celebrate your madness; it brings the world to sanity.

You keep on fighting even when all is lost.

You die pursuing the best for those around you.

You live longer because you give too much.

You die all the time that others may live.

Although you are not perfect, you're imperfectly awesome.

You can't stop talking and asking and worrying and thinking and planning and tossing forth, bringing hither and taking thither.

You won't stop loving...

You won't stop opening the eyes of the world to infinite possibilities.

I don't know how you do it.

I really don't know how you do it.

Maybe the angels are sent to help you.

Maybe the Lord Himself comes down from the heavens to make your weak selves much stronger than ours.

But I celebrate you anyway.

Yes, when all has been folded, we still need you to unfold it... 

The world still needs you woman. It will always need you.

And I celebrate you.

I salute you.

Bonface Morris.