The word ‘fashion’ is no longer distant to me.  

It doesn’t limit me anymore.  

I don’t let people’s beliefs curtail me;  

I wear my journey like armor.  

 

People say I am becoming fashionable  

And I assert my wardrobe is a metaphor; 

It tells a tale.  

My body, my clothes, my accessories,  

Have all changed,  

Like the city I dwell in,  

The body I live in,  

My priorities,  

And the journies I begin.  

From only wearing full-sleeve kurtas  

Often on purpose and at times out of shame, 

I now include skirts, jeans, t-shirts, blouses, and tubes.  

I now own my body and accept my curves, 

Like I own up to my mistakes and accept my faults.  

I now let go of the internalized body shaming  

Like I let go of the clothes and the people  

Who stayed for a long but have not belonged.  

I no longer wait to fit into the clothes or the bonds  

I have outgrown.  

 

My hair now is untied often 

Conveying my openness  

To experiences in life.  

My eyes, darker and bolder, 

Being my signature.  

My cheeks blushed  

And my lips colored,  

I learn to voice myself  

And listen to others.  

I am no more hesitant  

To deep necks or backless;  

I am becoming vulnerable  

And a person of depth.  

My clothes fit me  

Like my surrounding; 

The city didn’t become safer,  

I became stronger  

To wear my journey  

Like armor.  

 

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