For as long as I can remember, my mother always said a woman looks the prettiest wearing the ornaments called shame.

Keeping that in mind, I filled my house with my whispers instead of the childlike laughter. Before my eyes could meet the eyes of the men, I would shut them. Even in front of myself, I covered myself making sure my skin was not visible. I would open my closet to find round necked Kurtis to hide the cleavage which might sell my shame. Looking at my chest, my grandma would ask me to carry a scarf too, for the curves can lead me to someone's bed.

Once standing in the kitchen beside my mother doing the dishes, I asked her if this is what my fate is and I remember seeing her hands stop for a fraction of second followed by silence. That night when I was falling asleep, she came and whispered in my ears, "Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change".

For the longest time, I went through hell and returned in the arms of those words. I lost myself under the inaccurate conclusions that I drew as a kid. The rebel inside of me which I never knew existed suffocated and cried for freedom. After all, for how long can anyone stop a cocoon from being a butterfly? I slowly hammered down the wall of the words around me to find an escape.

The moment I held my wings wide open, I found how my mother stabbed me that night. I recalled how the silence after those words wanted to say something, but could not. Maybe she knew if she did not choke me who had started to question the tradition, the rebel inside of me would wake up and bring a revolution.

Now every night I close my eyes, keep my hands on my heart, and chant:

"Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
Courage to change the things I can,
And wisdom to know the difference",
And fall asleep with the courage to bring a revolution the next day.

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