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Women on Writing – Enthusiastic and Sad Life Lessons that We Should Read

by Vanessa Daniela

This summer, I have read fascinating books that expanded my knowledge about society,  cultures and human rights. I can not deny how shocked, sick, or enthusiastic I was after some chapters on these books.

For some of them, you will need to have a thick skin to read thru pages of torture and suffering, but all of them are life lessons. Before I talk about them, I want to congratulate the female authors and those who fight for human rights. Also, my deepest condolences to those who lost their daughters and family members.


Until We Are Free – My Fight for Human Rights in Iran by Sherin Ebadiimages

Shirin Ebadi is a human rights lawyer, former judge and has been defending families against the regime in Iran. She is the first Muslim woman to receive the Nobel Peace Prize.

One of her most remarkable battles was to change the child custody laws in Iran after Arian Golshani, 9-year-old was beaten to death by her father and stepmother. The Iranian law favors the men over women, so Golshani was not allowed to stay with her mother after her parents’ divorce.

Following Ebadi’s  journey thru this book, it gave me a unique perspective and an amazing knowledge about Iran.

The regime has been violating the human rights by torturing people to extract information about anything useful to the government. It is an inspiring and sad book, but totally worth reading.

Click here to read more about Shirin Ebadi


I am Malala by Malala Yousafzai with Patricia McCormick

Malala is one of the bravest girls that I have heard of. She stood up for education even 51dVLcrS0gL._SX321_BO1,204,203,200_when she faced Taliban death threats and after the attack that caused her eternal marks. Despite the brutal attempt, she raised stronger after it.

“We were scared, but our fear was not as strong as our courage.”
Malala Yousafzai, I Am Malala: The Girl Who Stood Up for Education and Was Shot by the Taliban

Malala is the youngest Nobel Prize Winner.

I applaud her parents for supporting her studies and dreams. According to Taliban, Pakistan culture, and religion, girls should not be educated, but be married at an early age and dedicated to their husbands and house work.

Click here to read more about Malala Yousafzai


O Diario de uma Escrava by Ro Mierling – The Slave’s Diary capa-diario-de-uma-escrava

This book is based on real stories of girls that were sexually abused by a psychopath that kidnaps girls and uses them as his object. I read for study purpose, but I wanted to throw up after every chapter. I couldn’t believe how some people can be so heartless.

According to statistics, in Brazil, every year, 40,000 minors disappear, and a third of them are used for sexual purpose. Usually, they leave without leaving a trace.

DO NOT READ, if you went thru any kind of sexual abuse. However, It is an excellent book for parents and teenagers as a watch out. Breaking parents’ rules and curfews, and talking to strangers on the internet can be a lapse with permanent marks.

…”please watch over them and guard them again mistakes of youth that are unalterable.” Powerful Prayers of Protection

Click here to learn more about Rô Mierling


The Crossroads of Should and Must: Find and Follow Your Passion by Elle Luna 51I6aeJYqlL._SX325_BO1,204,203,200_

 

Elle Luna is an artist, designer, and writer who challenge us to think outside of the box and push ourselves to reflect on the conflict between our passions and our money maker job.

Reflective words, messages combined with an inspiring touch of art bloomed my creativity and put me ready to work on my craft.

“Should is how other people want us to live our lives. It’s all of the expectations that others layer upon us.”

 

 

Click here to read more about Elle Luna

Image Source

Amazon

Dark Side Books

Editora Sextante

 

 

 

 

 

 

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II Poetry Contest: Poems from India

Sewa is an organization that provides education for girls in Gujarati, India. These poems were written by Sewa’s students.

I Poem: Our Country

In the ocean of these relations

There’s one relation that is unique, that which I love…

Which I repeatedly recall day and night

Where the sand of sand dunes of desert
Fly around to make new sand dunes

The smell of that sand
Is what I can still feel today
As soon the rain drops pour down, it gets soaked up

Completely, in that ocean of sand
There’s is one relationship that is unique, that which I love…

I remember the crowdedness of those streets
Carts, scooters, auto rickshaws and those buses
Somewhere there were cows and at other places, the goats
They would swing and walk
Somewhere you would hear the noise of sacks filled with vegetables

They were the light of those streets
Were the sign of the population
Where we dreamt when asleep and awake
Of fairies and prince

Where there was humanity and honesty

There is pride

There was pride in one’s own earnings

Where there was glory of virtues
Where there was light because of festivals

This is my country and I am its

This is my country and I am its

This bond is unbreakable, this wouldn’t change

This relation that is the most unique
Which I love the most

 


II Poem: Where women are independent

There is every moment of happiness

Is being raised our princess

But why is she scared today
Even though it isn’t her fault, yet she is embarrassed

Why sons don’t undergo such stringency

We have raised our voice today
This fight is for equality
This is unfair

No one should stop us, no one should accost us

This is the fight for our existence
But who has begun this fire of inequality
Even though the fault is not of oneself

She is yet embarrassed today
Where even the mother is scared for her
But
There today
The daughters have raised their voice
Why are today the restrictions enforced only on us

Why sons don’t have have to face such harshness
This is unfair
This fight is for equality
This is the fight for our existence
No one should stop us, no one should accost us
I have reached that height today
Where there is an honest earning
It is a fight for our justice
The strength of my sisters lay in the wings
March forward, march forward
In this there lies the betterment of the family There is height in the society

There is height in the society
There’s independence today
In our homes
In our country and in family
No one should stop us, no one should accost us

The one who distributed all her rights of living Neither in bread nor in clothes
Either in education nor in illness
Neither was she remembered in wealth

We all are her debtors


III Poem: Invaluable diamond

The one who gave up life even before birth
Is there anyone who is responsible for it
Whom god had created to be magnanimous since birth

The one who distributed all her rights of living

Neither in bread nor in clothes

Either in education nor in illness

Neither was she remembered in wealth

We all are her debtors

The childhood passed and so did youth, the aged eyes saw darkness

Yet on one from us took up responsibility of this
Today, that daughter only, is the music of our lives
The one who has brightened the lives of her family

Became independent and made discoveries

Has opened the doors to her own destiny
Sisters have become partners of each other
Have taken care of all the burdens of life
After toiling and struggling she has become understanding

Let us all accept today
That only she is our sparking invaluable diamond


 

IV Poem: There was brightness on all four sides of Chamanpur’s crossroads…

Will the moon’s brightness remain caged in the four wall only

on the face was the stole, and chameli in the hair, and in the middle were the stove and grinder

this was no one but kamla’s  free-spiritedness
she came to me with glitter and sparkle

hopping and jumping she came to me

take me to the academy one day,
I shall wait for you and that chance, When that day arrived,

When that day arrived,

There entailed series of questions such as what is it? Why is it? Sometimes on telephone and sometimes on phone Sometimes on camera and sometimes on monitor

Sometimes on telephone and sometimes on phone Sometimes on camera and sometimes on monitor

Sometimes on camera and sometimes on monitor
Posed many questions

She blushed seeing herself smiling on the T.V.
She waited a moment and then erupted such a flame

On the face of chamanpur’s fire, rested some silence

Can this computer, phone and camera

Not be in the hands of mine

I do not wish to make cigars and sell vegetables

Give these weapons to me also once
Then you see my beauty and fairness
How do I use my thoughts for outsiders

In that there will be matters pertaining my sisters and sometimes that of my dreams too
I will jot down sometimes the violence shown to my sisters

Someday it will become weapons of my livelihood

This incident occurred seven years back

The fire of chamnapur
Our free spirited and our dream’s beauty

Today, she has kindled the fire of passion and enthusiasm In thousands, has the battalion of girls become ready.


V Poem: We want neither poverty not inequality

We shall break this wall
Which separates us from each other
This is a cry for peace, we shall break this wall of differentiation

That which brings inequality in earnings, which brings shortfalls in employment
In the helplessness of hunger, in the illness of children
We fight each day in this epidemic

This nothingness in our identity
Have lost our land and our roofs
Today it is the relationship that has rocked it In this fight of creed and caste,
Let us break this wall of inequality

This is a cry for peace
Do you think that the battle has calmed down
Have the weapons been let down
No o siste , e ha e ’t hea d the all of pea e
When the peace shall prevail, there will be earning in villages and streets, our lands shall also become fertile
Beauty shall not be an unknown
Men and women shall become equal. The country shall awaken There resounds a cry for peace in every household

II Poetry Contest: Chutki the smartest

by Vaishnavi Sai

Chutki the smartest

Granny sang all the way

Chutki the bravest

Chutki the bravest

Daddy was always right

She kept dancing in her yellow skirt

She played a lot, till the ribbons left her braid

Chutki liked ice candy

lemon,mango, orange, and rose

He got her all four of them

Uncle Joe, Uncle Joe

Sweetest man, sweetest man

He showed her his magic tricks

He played all the sshhhh!!! games

Games which were new to her

Games which were no fun to her

Chutki knew that granny lied,

She wasn’t the smartest

And dada was wrong

She wasn’t the bravest

At 15, she cut the princess cake and wished for a knight

He didn’t have a white horse nor a castle made of glass
All she wanted was a heart of gold
His one was rather cold
Fairytale gone wrong
Chutki wasn’t the smartest

Chutki wasn’t the bravest

At 25, her parents liked him
Arranged marriage comes at a price

They got him a car, which her dad never had

They got him a house, just like the one she drew

Granny said that he was the smartest

Dad said that he was the bravest

Granny didn’t lie
Dada wasn’t wrong

As he was smart with the abuses ,

And brave with the leather belt

He ordered for a cute xy

But all he gave her was an x

She knew that her baby girl would never be the smartest

The baby girl would never be the bravest

As the saree tightened around the ceiling fan

Two heartbeats ceased at once

Chutki wasn’t the smartest

Chutki wasn’t the bravest

II Poetry Contest: As I write this, I think about all the incidents where I blamed someone…

By Vaishnavi Sai

As I write this, I think about all the incidents where I blamed someone
It was my fault
All my fault

The day the motor cycle guy spanked me
It was my fault
I was walking on the FOOTPATH
That time when the cab driver adjusted his rear view mirror
It was my fault
I have a FACE
That time when he kept falling on me intentionally
It was my fault
I boarded a public transport BUS
That time when a professor sent me an obscene message
It was my fault
I carried a PHONE
That time when an old man masturbated outside the girl’s school
It was our fault
We were wearing UNIFORMS
That time, when a 60 year old man raped a 7 year old girl
It was her fault
She wore a cute short pink FROCK
That time when my drunk, abusive husband got on me
Ssshhhh!!!! I forgot!!!
Marital rape DOESN’T exist
Sorry, my fault
I wish I belonged to the era
When VIRGIN mother Mary gave birth and the world rejoiced
All these new rules in the name of religion
Even God must be laughing at us

That time when I went for the new year bash
It was my fault
I wanted to CELEBRATE
I wish they didn’t issue passes for women
I wish the new day didn’t start at 12:00 am -the hour at which I am not supposed to be on the roads
How can I argue with men when some from my gender also tell me it’s my fault
Feminism, hahahhaha
Equality ?
How can I call it equal?
When a group of men tried to grope me
I tried
I tried
I used my nails, my bag, my teeth and my heels
I failed
Like always
It was my fault
That I was born a woman
The way you like to call me
A shameless one

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II Poetry Contest: The Fictitious Crush

by Rahmat Idiaro D.

A cool, serene and well fragranced arena appealing to her poor innocent soul
It breezes of coolness and flourishment melts the stony heart
She looked up to the smiling moon and she smiled back
Behold was the charming appariton of a cool gentleman of mensch with a smiley and handsome personality
He walked slowly and directly to the green planty arena with a natural spray and several snap of shots after a beauteous butterfly chase.
A thousand thoughts intruded her ornamented mind
“what a nature lover!” Her soul uttered
She looked up abruptly and found him dancing in sequence to a popular soul music
“what a romantic movement!” Her soul uttered
He retired to a wooden bench and dispersed several handfuls of grain to the doves who bubbly gobbled it
“what a kind and generous personality he revealed!” Her soul uttered
He carried the natural spray and towards her direction he comes
“He must have sighted me!” Her soul uttered happily
She closed her eyes and stood up impatiently with her hands ready to procure the spray
She opened her eyes only to percept the invisible movement
“Where could he have been?!” Her soul uttered deeply
She looked forward to the wooden bench and realized she was in an imaginary world.

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II Poetry Contest: Our hearts are wracked…

by Adrienne,

Our hearts are wracked
With sobs of pain
Our tears do overflow.

Our souls are numb
With disbelief
By turmoil plunged too low.

Is this the end
Of hopes, of dreams?
“Is this the end?” we cry.

Two choices lie
Ahead of us–
To either run or rise.

We will not run
“For that is fear”
Our inner being cries.

So we’ll be brave
And join our hands
For only then we’ll rise.

II Poetry Contest: The Rebellious Bird

by Anuj Abraham

Rebellious, she was, the decision was made. Irrespective of the pain, she decided to walk on the blade.

Life wasn’t a bed of roses nor was it a walk on burning coals. Yet she had decided she won’t be tamed. She wanted to be free.

She was a spirit, that wandered, a bird that was set free. A cage that once defined her world was now a blurring reality.

Rebellion it was when she left the cage, but she chose to carve out her life the way she wanted.

The world rebuked her when she did the unthinkable.

But rebellion was her first step towards her dreams.

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II Poetry Contest: She Fought

by Anuj Abraham

She has suffered.
She has endured a lot.
She has seen the worst.
She has been a failure, a lost cause.
She suffered in silence.
She hoped.
She was caged.
She was humiliated.
She was tortured, mentally.
Disrobed of her peace but
She fought.
She survived.
She was cheated.
She was destroyed.
But she fought.
Wounds were not her weakness,
It became her strength.
Pain became her ally.
Scars reminded her of her grit & determination.
She didn’t just survive, she lived.
She is not just a fighter.
She is a warrior.
She is now fearless.
She is strong.
She is mighty.
She is you!