The Law of Conservation of Mass

In the midst of a family argument, my mother distilled yet another pearl of wisdom that has quite literally traumatised me. She said,

‘Always choose the most senile and stupidest man you can as your life partner because it’s easier that way.’

When I, gasping and shocked, asked her to elaborate, she rambled about how if I want to live a life of ambition and achievement, there is no possible smart man on this planet who would want me. He would be much too threatened to cheer me on. Real smart men want do not want to marry competition, they want to marry decor.

So there I sat, processing how the woman who gave me life and whom I looked up to for assembling 2-tonne furniture by herself for decades,

How she, a woman with a masters degree in engineering, told me that I was unwanted by any man of intellect and power,

And why I should be at peace with settling. Ew.

And then she yelled at me for the dress I was wearing today because it showed that I, a woman, had, wait for it,

real-life breasts!

I am beyond vile for leaving the house with a female body.

I don’t have a cheerful and upbeat conclusion from this.

If I was a boy, with a beautiful mind and a stunning body to go along with it, I would be praised by everyone around me. I would be told of all the girls that are soon to be swooning at my feet and how I should best use my hot abs more often. I would be stroked with affirming words of admiration and my parents would constantly hover around me in

But instead, due to my vagina, I am hushed way more often than heard and told that it’s safer that I’m with a senile idiot than with a worthy equal who not only understands but celebrates my brilliance. I’m told to hide my body as much as possible as if I’m fries on a beach crowded with starved seagulls. My parents have no idea that I did well in prelims or that I’m trying to get early entry into uni,

Or that I exist at all.

What am I supposed to do about this? How do I make this world better?

By being better I guess.

The wind once used to be an annoying force, blowing hair into your lip gloss and whatnot, but now we harness it to create infinite electricity. So can I, capture the crippling misogyny thrown at me from all angles, whether it be the annoying class incel, gross catcallers on the streets or my literal parents, and try my best to transform that energy into

Fuel.

The Law of Conservation of Mass states that energy cannot be created nor destroyed, only changed. I will put it conscious effort to transform my mother’s hate speech into a piece of bursting with rebellion and embedded with sparks of inspiration.

Whether you’re reading this the very day I wrote it, 1st October 2020, or have stumbled across this a month or a couple of decades from now, or if your my very daughters (Celeste and Serena) reading my works, I hope I’ve made you proud. I really hope I don’t let the seemingly eternal sobs I’m currently exploding with go to waste and that I do something for this planet to make sure that no one is ever, ever, ever told again,

That she is despised, rejected and unwanted for

Her greatness