feminism and flowers | Anushka Das

I can tell that

my father is not a feminist

in the way, he calls

me and my sister

his rose and his dahlia

he is watering flowers

and not raising daughters

I can tell that

my father is not a feminist

in the way, he walks beside me

and in the way, he tells me

how to walk beside him

delicately softy gracefully

floating in the air like

a fairy

I can tell that

my father is not a feminist

in the way, he asks me to speak up

when he talks over me

my father has educated us

in science, in literature, in art

but he cannot teach us what

he does not understand himself

my father tells me

to go conquer the cosmos

to unfurl my wings and soar into the sky

but to come back home

before nine

my father loves us

but fears for us more

I can tell that

my father is not a feminist

when he says that

women have to hustle

harder longer

because we are built slower

he says it isn't our fault

it's our chromosomes

how our genes are coded

we are molded to be smaller

weaker with rounder shoulders

that cannot bear the weight

of this cruel unfair world

we have to wear armors

and be on guard with spears

this is a battlefield, darling

if you are too fragile to be the offense

at least be on your defense

why do I have to wage a war

to lay claim over my own womb?

I can tell that

my father is not a feminist

in the way, he doesn't want to

change the world for us

but wants us to change

for the world

my father is a good son

a good husband

a good father

but above all, he is a good man

my father is a man

a man

so when my father told me

that he would finance my

higher education once

I get married to a suitable man

I agreed to marry

as long as I could wear

a plain white sari

on the wedding day

it would be as though

I'd be attending a funeral

my funeral.