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Poetry

Undercover

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Walking down the road, they see me as a secret, as a question with no answers. And while sitting on the bus, in between their talk, I am always there. And on the way to the restaurant or the nearby shop, there are always some voices that my ears catch every day, and hands that want to make me a full stop, without knowing what those sentences before it are telling. I was told many times to take it off to be human, to be accepted. When your clothes don’t matter, then why are mine always a topic for discussion? When they talk about seeing the soul beyond the bodies, why it is necessary for my body to be seen to feel like a living thing, according to some man-made standards. I think about it, and I think about all the pieces of clothes you are not in, which I choose to carry, and about all those words, stares and abuses. Should I feel less because of what they think? And then I think about all the talk about acceptance and equality and us. Because respecting women should include those who wear hijab or headscarf or who choose to not be seen as well. Souls that are being caged need freedom not clothes. That is the only secret you need to know. Because I will not be able to feel free unless my soul feels free. We are more than our bodies, skin, clothes, thoughts, opinions and prejudices.


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