Feminism is not just a hashtag…

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I wonder what does it mean, the word Brave?

I wonder what does it mean, the word Brave?

Does it mean to do something you’re afraid of or to be never afraid of anything at all or to love impulsively or to take a crazy roller coaster ride or go for bungee jumping or to watch a horror flick all alone or to fight in a combat with real bullets or to work on a dream that is nearly impossible or to fall in love…what on Earth does it mean to be Brave?

For, I’m just busy playing one day at a time and oh boy I think that’s all the bravery I know and I know it’s not even remotely close to the word.

For me to get up everyday, and make the world see the person that’s not even there, is all that I know up about the word I’m trying to figure out.

Is it brave to be a peachy lie during the day & daggering reality by night?

What does is mean, the word Brave?

What’s your story?

Sometimes people ask me what’s your story and oh boy do I lie? Like a bored writer given a blank page and a permission to create.

What is my story? Your indifference & intolerance & unacceptance.

But, what do I tell? A story blaming the insignificant stars & timing & destiny.

How do I tell you that the story is nothing but a book full of cliches. A soul trapped for everything different looks scary to you, for what doesn’t fit your box has no place, for hashtags are not going to change you and your rules of acceptance.

And, so I paint lies for you and for me.

What’s my story?

Nothing, just I’m…oh you know…I… (Lie little one, lie.)