Letter to my 12-year old self on International Women’s Day

You are sitting on your school grounds at break time, chatting with a friend. The air is filled with the chatter of other children. You are dressed in your navy-blue pinafore dress, a white shirt with a navy-blue collar, white socks and black shoes, your cornrows neatly done in your natural hair.

On your lap is a pink lunchbox. Inside it is a chicken-mayo sandwich prepared by your mother, a small piece of home that travels with you. You think life will always be this simple.

Oh dear!

At twelve, you thought womanhood was about flowers and wearing pink. Now you know it is far more than that.

Today, on International Women’s Day, the world speaks about rights, justice and action for women and girls. At twelve, you do not fully understand those words. But deep inside you, there is already a quiet defiance, a desire for something better, not only for yourself but for other girls as well.

For now, your world is only about the rhythm of school bells, the comfort of home and the quiet certainty that the adults around you fully understand the world.

Soon, the aunties around you will start saying “uri kukura”—you are becoming a young woman. You will realise that they begin delegating more chores to you, “so you can learn and be prepared for where you will go.” At that age, you do not know what that means. You are not planning to go anywhere. But you will soon understand.

Shortly after, menstruation will arrive like an unwelcome visitor. You will be shocked that this is your body. You will quickly learn that it is something girls are expected to manage quietly. No one has to know, especially the boys.

Years later, you will begin to question why such a natural process had to be carried with so much silence. You will question why you were taught to view your body as something shameful, or as a quiet burden.

You will observe the women around you – your mother, your grandmother, your aunties. They carry themselves with an air of propriety and quiet conservatism, always knowing the number of words to say and never stepping out of character. You are not sure that is the kind of woman you want to become.

Your grandmother often scolds you for asking too many questions, yet that does not deter you. Your questions do not stop.

You will still believe that adults are certain. You will watch the women around you waking up early, moving with purpose, getting things done and praying. At twelve, it all looks steady, almost perfect.

However, you will soon learn that even the strongest women are sometimes uncertain. Sometimes they improvise their way through life in the best way they know how. The certainty you see is courage in disguise. Those women often have no other choice.

You will be taught how to be a good girl. Be helpful. Be quiet. Always do what you are told. Do not answer back.

But you will often get into trouble for asking why.

In time, you will learn that your curiosity is not disobedience. You simply want to understand. That curiosity will follow you everywhere, to the classroom, into conversations and even into rooms where people would prefer silence. Do not let go of that curiosity. It will grow into your voice. A voice that refuses to be quiet, even when it shakes. Even when it goes against what you were taught to believe about yourself.

You will grow to love your culture, but you will also detest the parts of it that silence you. So you will find a middle ground. You will hold on to the parts that nurture you and question the ones that try to limit you.

You will be called strong. Strong for managing expectations and adjusting when life changes unexpectedly. Strong for carrying responsibilities that weigh you down with quiet grace.

In all of this, I hope you also learn softness, softness in choosing joy, in resting when you are tired and in refusing to accept less than you deserve.

Little girl with the navy-blue pinafore and the big questions in your heart, do not disappear. Do not remain silent. Do not inherit struggle without interrogation.

Instead, become a woman who refuses to be quiet now that you understand what rights, justice and action for women and girls mean.

Stand for truth, even when your voice shakes. Even when it makes you uncomfortable.

And above all, never be the cause of another woman’s discomfort or abuse.