The Unspoken Truth About Girlhood: A Story of Pain and Triumph.

The Unspoken Truth About Girlhood: A Story of Pain and Triumph PART ONE

The unspoken truth about girlhood: A story of pain and Triumph

According to GirlMuseum.org, girlhood means, "Each culture has their definition...,it is impossible to lump all kinds of girlhood into one definition". However, I have firsthand experience of what it is like. For me, girlhood means the suffocating feeling of being forced into a narrow mold, where the relentless pursuit an unachievable physical ideal. Trapped in a tiny mold, I struggled to fit in. Pressure to be beautiful, perfect, and popular suffocated me. My true self was lost in the effort to meet impossible standards, leaving me feeling broken and never enough. Despite the weight of societal expectations, we girls are forced to hide our true strength. We're told to conform, rather than lead. Our potential is suffocated by limits, when we could be leaders, innovators, and game changers, but instead, our dreams are reduced to whispers of 'what if'. Growing up, I've been told to be a doll, a princess, a beauty queen. I've been forced to wear a mask of perfection, to hide my flaws, my fears, my dreams. I've been taught to prioritise beauty over brains, to value physical appearance over strength. The weight of these expectations crushes me. Trapped in a world that doesn't allow me to be me. I'm a bird with clipped wings, a song silenced by societal chains.

I've been suffocated by the weight of expectations, forced to hide my true self behind a mask of perfection. I've been trapped in a world where being a girl means to play by rules we didn't write. The 'girl code' dictates how I should date, love, and live. I'm told to be vulnerable, but not too much. To be interested, but not too eager. To be sweet, but not too sassy. I'm expected to be a puzzle piece, fitting with the mold of someone else's ideal. I'm not allowed to be the puzzle maker, creating my own picture. I'm judged for being too much, or too little. Too loud, or too quiet. Too bold, or too shy. I'm never enough, always too much. This 'girl code' suffocates me, stifling my voice, my choices, my dreams. I'm trapped in a world where being a girl is measured by my appearance. Where my beauty is defined by the shape of my body, the color of my skin, the length of my hair. I'm expected to be a barbie doll, delicate and fragile. To have a smile that never fades, skin that never flaws, and hair that never frizzes. I'm told to conceal my imperfections, to hide my scars, to mask my flaws. To be a perfect picture, a flawless facade. But behind the mask, I'm dying. I'm suffocating under the pressure to be perfect. I'm loosing myself in the sea of 'having that face'. I'm trapped in a world where being a girl is bound to wear the triple crown of femininity. I must be a mother, a homemaker, and a servant. I'm expected to nurture life, to cuddle it in my own dreams for the sake of others. To be a selfless mother, always giving, never receiving. I'm expected to keep a spotless home, to cook meals that satisfy, and to clean until my hands bleed. To be a domestic goddess, always serving, never resting. But what about my own dreams? My own needs? My own dreams? They're suffocated by the weight of responsibility, crushed by the pressure to lead. I long to break free, to rewrite the 'girl code', to be the author of my own story. But the fear of judgment, of rejection, holds me back. I long to be free, to be me, to be imperfect. To have a face that shows my emotions, a body that tells my story, my hair that reflects my personality. But the fear of judgment, of rejection, holds me back. I long to break free, to be me, to be more than just a mother and a maid. To be a woman with her own identity, her own passions, her own purpose. But the fear of judgment, of rejection, hold me back. And so, I remain a prisoner of societal expectations, a shadow of the dreams I hoped for.

I've been suffocated by the weight of pressures, forced to hide my true self behind a mask of perfection. In a never ending cycle of self doubt, constantly fearing I'm the 'ugly one' in the group. The one who doesn't measure up, who doesn't fit the mold, who's always neglected to the shadows. Every friend group has one, the girl who's overlooked, under appreciated, and over criticised. And I'm desperate to avoid being her. I look at my reflection, searching for flaws, for imperfections, for reasons to hate myself. I compare myself to my friends, always coming up short. I feel like I'm in a constant beauty pageant, competing for validation, for acceptance, for love. But no matter how hard I try, I'm never enough. The pressure is suffocating, the fear is crippling. I'm exhausted for trying to keep up the charade, from pretending to be someone I'm not. In a never ending cycle of self doubt and the comparison to the flawless girl on the screen. I stand in front of the mirror, scrolling through social media, and I'm met with a sea of perfection. Flawless skin razor sharp cheekbones, and curves that seem to go on forever. I gaze at my own reflection, and I'm reminded of my imperfections. My skin so dull and uneven, my features plain, and my body nothing like the ones I see online. I feel like I'm living in a world that's been edited and filtered, where everyone else is a super model and I'm just a mere human. The pressure to live is suffocating, the feeling is crushing. I wish i could be kinder to myself, to see the beauty in my own uniqueness. But it's hard when the world is screaming at me to be someone else. I'm exhausted from trying to keep up the charade, from pretending to be someone I'm not. In a never ending cycle of self doubt to being reduced to just a 'pretty face no brain'. I'm more than just a smile, more than just a figure. I have a mind that's bursting with thoughts, ideas, and dreams. But every time I try to showcase my intellect, I'm met with criticism and doubt. I'm smart, but does that mean I'm ugly? Is intelligence and beauty mutually exclusive? Can't i be both? I'm exhausted from trying to prove myself, from fighting to be taken seriously. I'm more than just a pretty face but no one seems to care. I long to be seen as a whole person, not just one dimensional beauty. I want to be appreciated for my mind, not just my physical appearance. I long to break free, to be me, to be beautiful in my own way. But the fear of rejection of being the 'ugly one', holds me back. I long to break free, to be me, to be beautiful in my own way. But the mirror and social media holds me back. I long to break free, to be me, to be beautiful in my own way. But I guess I can't , I can't because I'm just an ugly face with brains.

I've been suffocated by the weight of ambitions, forced to hide my true self behind a mask of perfection. I want to build a future, where I'm a robotics engineer, with a bachelor's degree in hand. I want to be a mother and wife, not because I'm meant to, but because I choose to. I want financial stability, with God by my side, making a difference in the world. But society wants something else, something that looks nothing like my dreams. They want me to fit in, to conform, to be like everyone else. They want me to priotise marriage and motherhood over education and career. I want to build a future...but the society wants something else. I want to be a robotics engineer...but society wants a homemaker. I want financial stability...but society wants me to be dependent. I want God by my side...but society wants me to conform. They want me to comfort, to fit into their mold, to prioritise marriage and motherhood over education and career. They want me to be a carbon copy of what they deem acceptable, not a unique individual with my own aspirations. It's a constant struggle, a battle between my ambitions and societal expectations. I'm torn between the demand of others. It's a painful realisation that my dreams may not align with what the world wants for me. But I hold on to hope, hope that I can forge my own path, one that looks nothing like what society wants, but everything like I want.

I've been suffocated by the weight of past personal stories, forced to hide my true self behind a mask of perfection. I still remember the feeling of being a carefree child, when life's biggest worry was what game to play next. I would often pretend to fall asleep in the car, just so my dad would scoop me up in his arms and carry me inside. It was a small act, but it made me feel so loved and protected. Now that small act of protection grew to me pretending to fall asleep in my room at 2pm, maybe if I do that long enough, the dark shadows of pressures will disappear into thin air. I used to spend long hours in my room, belting out my favourite tunes, imagining myself as a famous singer. I'd roll up my sleeves, grab a make shift microphone, and perform for an audience of stuffed animals. Music was my escape, my happy place. Now my head fixed on my pillow as I wished and cried blood out my feelings, on how I hated being a girl, how I hated caring so much about my looks, is now my happy place. Because it was the only place where my feelings could erupt without being judged. But life has other plans for me. One day, I woke up to a strange, uncomfortable feeling. I looked down to see blood stains on my sheets and my heart began to race. I thought I was dying. I didn't know what was happening to my body, or why I was in so much pain. I felt scared, alone, and unsure. No one had prepared me for being a girl. No one had told me that this was a sign of womanhood, a sign of societal expectations which caused my ovaries to bleed in pain. I'm close to womanhood, or has you'd like to say teenage hood, and it's filled with blur of tears, fears and uncertainty. It feels like you're walking through a dark forest, with no map to guide. No clue on how to navigate this new life, or how to make sense of the emotions that's swirling inside you. But as months go by, you begin to realise that you aren't alone. My mom, my friends, and girls all over the world like you are in this together. We share different stories but same fights. But we lift each other up, and find strength in our collective struggles. Looking back, I realise those experiences shaped me into the person I am today. They taught me to be strong, resilient and never give up. They taught me that womanhood is a badge of honour, a symbol of strength, courage and not fear.

As I navigate the landscape of girlhood, I'm torn between the expectations of 'girl code', of wife and motherhood, of flawless faces and perfect lives. The pressure to conform is suffocating, the fear of being the 'ugly one' haunting me still. But in the midst of the chaos, I find solace in my ambitions, my dreams of building a future as a robotics engineer, of holding a bachelor's degree, of being a mother and wife by choice, not obligation. But will it be enough? Will I ever be enough? Or will I forever be trapped in this cycle of self-doubt, this endless pursuit of validation? 'Pretty face no brain', they say, but what about the 'ugly face with brains'? What about me? I miss being in my dad's arms, singing to my stuffed animals. Yet, I hold on to hope, a glimmer of light in that darkness, a whisper that I am enough, that I am worthy. For in the end, it's not about the expectations, the pressures, or the pain. It's about the strength I've found, the resilience I've built, and the dreams I still hold dear. For I am a girl, a woman to be, a force to be reckoned with. And I will rise, I will rise, and I will rise again.