I have come far from the women who covered their faces—
not by choice, as if they did not matter.
I have come far from the women who only cooked,
who only swept, were told that was enough.
I have come far from the women who stayed home,
no travel, no art, no exposure.
I have come far from the women who asked for permission,
to step outside, to exist beyond the walls.
I have come far from the women who did not choose
what they wore, only accepted what was given.
I have come far from the women who were silenced,
who believed the world knew better than them.
I have come far from the women who could not vote,
who lived life decided for them.
I have come far from the women who fed themselves last,
who did not taste their own desires.
I have come far and yet— I am far
far from living on my own terms,
far from flying solo with courage, with freedom.
I do not want a Vidai,
I do not want to be given away,
I want a home that is mine.
And still— I am far
far from a choice that is fully mine
without explaining why I deserve to exist, to dream, to choose.
As if being human is not enough.
I have the same skin, the same bones,
the same breath, the same time,
the same earth, the same sky,
and the same right—to live freely as this life is mine.