Photography by Remon El Markiz
Basma Abbas – Art Director
Not that I have anything against its existence, I just hate the notion around it. Ever since I was young, it’s been shoved in my face with the pretense that all girls love pink. Not that I disliked pink as a young girl, but I hate being in a monochrome world of preset standards. The “Princess” phase; as if I was taught to aspire to being a privileged royalty.
Why do we create a world of pink and a world of blue when we raise children? Why do we raise young girls that they are more fragile than boys? Why do we implant that idea that females are bound to have less physical strength than males? They are bound to be conscious about their own physical limitations one day, but when that happens, it’s going to be with respect to their own consciousness, not a mere act of comparison to males. Teach a girl her limitations at a young age and you are crippling her for years to come.
“Ever since I was young, it’s been shoved in my face with the pretense that all girls love pink.”
Why shouldn’t girls play rough? How many girls were raised knowing it’s OK to have mud in their hair? It’s OK if you think babysitting a fictional baby is just not for you? Why aren’t girls left in the playground jungle to learn playground rules on their own? How many girls were left to play with insects? To learn about space? To have endless conversations that always start with “why”?
If you plant only void spaces of shallow interests for girls, eventually girls will grow into this void and they become void themselves. Eventually you find them consumed with little things, with little minds and little ambition.
“Teach a girl her limitations at a young age and you are crippling her for years to come.”
As a kid, I had been fascinated with the rust that takes over, the edges that stand out, the darkness that more than often shines brighter than the strongest “lights” and the will to fight reflected in nature. People around me, people who say they love me, have been doing it wrongly. They have been loving a different me; the me they think I should be. They want me to fit-in in a society they have deemed themselves master of.
I refuse to be masked, even if I’m seen as a monster. I refuse to shut up, even if all I make to them is a screeching noise. My colors will remain scorching to their eyes of judgment. My hair will tangle their beliefs of norms. My clothes will always set me free. I will wear dresses when I see fit. I will wear my nails long, and my hair short. I will not give in.
“They have been loving a different me; the me they think I should be. They want me to fit-in in a society they have deemed themselves master of.”
My ink will always tell my story, and it’s not up for your editing. My story will be about the real “me”!
Basma Abbas believes in all forms of art. She is especially mesmerized by fashion. She believes that how people dress reflects who they are and how they feel. It’s a form of art where she can get to create her own reality. It allows her to reach into the depths of her mind and soul, and to stretch beyond. She was reborn in Tahrir five years ago. The revolution was a turning point in her life. She wanted to stand for those who couldn’t stand for themselves. She wanted to fight for change, freedom and social justice. She is a wife and a mother of two, with passion for Yoga and meditation. She considers herself in a continuous journey to explore her spiritual path so that she can have a grounded sense of self.
