Skip to main content

I'm not a stereotype!

"Oh, that one over there seems dark; should be a Madrasi."

"Look, these Nigerian apes are here too! Thugs they are..,"

"Don't cry like a girl, boys aren't meant to cry!"

"Why is he in the kitchen? He isn't supposed to do the chores!"




You might have noticed what is common in these statements. You're right. Stereotypes.



Stereotypes can be a part of daily life, no matter who you are. It can affect how you share ideas, communicate and think about yourself. From a classroom to a delegate meeting, stereotypes can be everywhere!


Sometimes, people consciously or indirectly label another person through prejudice. Judging another person without knowing them personally.

Labeling is absolutely unacceptable. Every person is diverse and unique in their own way.

Racism isn't new to us.

Branding a person regardless of their character can reflect how you perceive people and your racism. Even if we don't mean it, we often end up passing or approving a racist comment.

What I think is that stereotyping a person or ethnicity is unethical.


Does more melanin mean more hatred? I don't think so.


Another atrocity is the lack of freedom of emotional expression in the male gender. In every open-minded and practical organization, an expressive individual who speaks his mind is valued much more. That's where the inevitable question pops up - How will the employee be assertive and speak his mind to a client when he does not know how to express his emotions clearly?

Now, we all know that fad that has been doing the rounds for a more than a year- feminism.

I do agree with its ideology- to introduce and support equality of all the genders.

But, what I think is that feminism has been wrongly termed - why does the root of the word refer to just one of the genders while it speaks of gender equality? Makes sense?

This issue is faced not only by the adult males involved in the workforce, but also by children. A crying boy is often made to feel embarrassed for expressing negative emotions by pointing out and comparing with female counterparts and told that crying is a feminine emotion and is something that does not go hand-in-hand with 'masculinity'. Men are emotionally silenced.

Coming to the female gender, why is pink always considered a feminine colour or even worse, a girl's favourite colour? Being a girl doesn't mean one has to like pink.

In a video shot in 2011, a then-toddler four-year-old Riley says, "Some girls like trucks and some boys like dolls..."

She is right.

Why restrict a girl's choices to what the society deems 'feminine' and not what the child prefers. Come on, seriously?

I think toxic masculinity is when a boy is humiliated for making a choice what is considered a 'female' choice.



What do you think about stereotypes? Let me know your experience and views on it down below!


 #LetsFightTheLabel 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Reminiscing

(Photo by Nong Vang on Unsplash ) It was a still, quiet night. The air seemed untouched by the maddening chaos in my mind. I glanced at the night sky, and spotted a star glimmering in the distance. The unusually gripping sight brushed me back to a fragment of my past, a chapter sealed long before. A whiff of my past my naive self still lived in. A life I had long left. I used to enjoy observing the tiny flickers of light, while my heart filled with hope for tomorrow. They looked like little flames whose glowing tips waltzed in the gentle evening wind. Those quiet, fulfilling moments spent squinting at tiny specks of light, while savouring the crisp air with traces of floral detergent from the clothesline, were one of a kind. Something no productivity chart would ever be able to explain. It was something I was not yet accustomed to; living a new life with new people, making new memories. Those little joys and fears that would excite my younger self. It's moments like these, moments...

My Quiet Hours Doodling

(Doodle by author) Those strokes hold some power over my soul. Every stroke of black ink on the paper carries my flow of zen. I feel my zen flowing through the bold lines of ink, as it seeps into the thin paper and leaves an imprint on the next page, like a faint footprint of time on a page left unwritten, a sliver of the blank pages of the future. I feel my throbbing anger, roaming curiosity and emotion trapped within drain from my veins and flow out like ink. It calms the raging storm within, liberates the compressed frustration, when emotion and doubt cloud my sight, when I cannot quite find answers to questions within. I let it take form. I let my mind and soul wander on paper, and they imprint traces of great wars fought in turmoil. I let the strokes clash into one another; some overshadow others, some lie far apart. Yet, the raw self cannot bear rules. I let the imperfections rule the paper, and that is what makes me raw, real and human. In the end, the wild strokes embrace and I...

A Letter to Thatha

The little specks of pearl in the sky Glowing and fuming, With the vapours of our memories.  In my swollen, glistening eyes, I saw the flare of your pyre in the stars, Like a spangle caught in my tears, The light of our love stretches its arms. I never knew a pain greater,  When my fingertips caressed your cold, grey folds of skin I never knew I could feel so broken inside, With scalding memories and a heart wanting justice. With last words untold, goodbyes unsaid. I never thought the day would come,  When I came home to your warm smile and open arms, But would instead be greeted by your empty chair. I never thought I would shudder and hide at your sight, Until you lay in the icy coffin like a child, Oblivious to our cries and wails. I never knew I would so badly yearn, To hear you call me one more time. I watched you become a child again. I never minded your faltering memory, Your greying eyes that often stared out in the open, I was content, With your pupils carrying a ...