 strong. From the moment I was born, my father called me son and rocked me of the very essence of being a daughter. As a child, I grew up receiving lessons on how to be a woman while being called son. Got my first job, sure my father was proud, but all that pride was for the son and none for the daughter. Why? First day at work, I'm excited, but I should have looked forward to something else perhaps. They sat there in a group of two or three and called me names. I avoid just as I had been told, and they start to play their games. They pushed me to the ground and grabbed my collar. What happened next? Let's not even bother. They tore my clothes and touched the parts I didn't adore. I shouted and screamed. I resisted. Should I say more? What should I call that day? My fate? Destiny? Oh wait. My fault. I was scarred. I saw the world flash before my eyes and I was all alone. Some looked at me with sympathy, others with disgust. But all of them were gone. I stood at the front door of my home with the hope of getting love and comfort none had shown. Oh, I still remember the worried look on their faces. How my mother went pale and my father lowered his gaze in shame and called me oh daughter. A walking taboo at my home. My world confined to the four corners of my room. I realized I had to stand up. I had to fight. But this only ended a chapter to my plight. I went to the doctor for examination. Little did I know I would be greeted with the questions. Was it late? Were you alone? What were you wearing? But none cared to ask me how I felt. After being labeled a relentless whore in the police station, which they did not see out loud, I turned my gaze to justice. Oh, that mighty justice which I read about. Life did not give me second chances, but justice sure gave them. Said they're juveniles. Or maybe it's just the never-ending trials. But bestial for I didn't go empty-handed. I was gifted with the overnight fame, which gave me a spotlight in the headings of newspapers that read. Another woman. It was astonishing to see my country unite overnight. And the man did justice I may not get. Where was this unity when my screams filled the air? Where was this unity when I had no strength to spare? Do not come holding placards. Do not light the fire. Do not let the light of hypocrisy shine bright on your face after you made me a symbol of this grace. All this time I stood alone. I know I'm scarred, but I am strong.