She Who Wears the Weight of Two Worlds

Before the birds can stretch their wings,

Before the world begins to expect things from her.

The kettle sings before her heart does.

She stirs rice like dreams,

Carefully, without letting them stick—

Dreams and rice, both delicate in heat.

Inside the house, she is a daughter—

Silent, obedient, folded like laundry,

Neatly tucked into roles

Passed down like heirlooms from mother to mother.

“Good girls don’t speak too loud,”

“Help your brother first,”

“Dress modestly. Laugh modestly. Exist modestly.”

Her spine bends with ancestral weight.

She doesn’t argue—

Not because she agrees,

But because arguing is another kind of burden

She no longer has the energy to carry.

Yet there is fire beneath her ribs.

Not the kind that catches fire— the kind that creates Outside the home, another war begins.

She protects herself with ambition, But the world mistakes it for arrogance.

“Too smart for a girl,”

“Too bold for your culture,”

“Too opinionated to be liked.”

Her steps echo in boardrooms of bias.

Her voice is referred to as "aggressive" in universities. Not assertive.

In buses where a stray elbow becomes a battle,

In offices where her ideas are nodded at

But later repeated by a man and applauded.

She speaks, and the room shifts—

Not always to her advantage. Some men shrink from her confidence,

Some women fear her nonconformity.

Still, she doesn’t fold.

She learns to rise like steam—

Invisible, but everywhere.

She writes in margins,

Thinks between lines,

fights without using hands. She carries groceries and deadlines together.

She prepares her father's lunch, Then stands in line for interviews.

She tutors her younger siblings by candlelight

And studies for her own exams by starlight.

When the world sleeps, she dreams.

When the world wakes, she builds.

There are days she cries

In the quiet of locked bathrooms,

Where no one can measure her tears

Or judge their cause.

There are nights she questions

Whether all this effort

Will ever be enough.

Her culture says sacrifice is noble.

She wonders—when do women get to be whole

Instead of constantly giving pieces away? But she loves.

Fiercely.

She loves her mother,

Who never got to chase her own dreams.

She loves her father,

Though he never quite understood

Why she needed more than marriage and meals.

She cares enough about her younger sister. To clear the path with her own scraped knees.

And so she continues.

She conceals her rebellion by remaining silent, Sews resistance into her smile.

She is not loud,

But she is thunder beneath calm skies.

Somebody will inquire, “How did she do it all?”

And no one will have the full answer.

Because her story was never written in headlines.

It was carved into routines,

Etched into sacrifices,

Hidden in the corners of calendars,

In the quiet pauses between tasks.

But she will know.

She will remember every battle she fought

Without a weapon. She broke every rule. Without shouting.

Every tear she transformed into strength

Without applause.

And maybe, just maybe,

The world will begin to understand—

That strength doesn’t always look like noise.

That revolution can be raising your hand

In a room where no one expects you to.

She wears the weight of two worlds—

One within her home,

And one outside its doors.

And somehow,

She walks.

Not just for herself.

But for every girl

Who learns to carry

Before she is ever taught to dream.

Author’s Note:

This poem is a tribute to the many girls and women who have to deal with both expectations and ambition at the same time. They have to carry the weight of tradition in their families while also overcoming the constraints of the outside world. Their stories are often unheard, lived in quiet strength, and recorded only in sacrifices, not in history books.

“She Who Wears the Weight of Two Worlds” was written to honour that quiet resilience—an everyday heroism that is rarely celebrated but deeply felt. This is not just one girl's story; it is the voice of many. May we learn to listen to their silence, respect their strength, and create a world where a girl's worth is measured not by her obedience, but by her courage to exist fully.