The experience of being a woman, theoretically we are equal, feels like we are equal, and in my perception, it feels equal, and I am supposed to accept such generosity of being treated equally. However, we are constantly gazed at; we are constantly losing, giving up, and deprived of autonomy; we constantly face inequalities, yet these inequalities are so trivial and insignificant that you feel embarrassed to even mention it, yet you feel it intensely. It evolves in a subtle manner, so I become the projection of a vast, invisible force, then merge into the shadow. So when the room is in silence, and I am screaming inside.

These creatures are highly sensitive and easily get disturbed. They sing and breathe, or they cry and sigh. They shine and fade. They shiver with fear, or with happiness. I scream silently, but their muted testimony is too loud to be ignored.

They conquer, but in vain, with feeble attempts to resist. Me too. Cowardly.

Perhaps we need more crazy and angry women, enough for it to become the norm, then we can start talking about freedom.