We all have that one person (hopefully just one individual and not a unit) who seems to be on a serious life mission. Only that their mission concerns sabotaging ours. Be it a friend, family member or relative; we know that person too well who meddles and bursts our dream bubble in the guise of “wise council’ we never summoned for.
It usually never has to do with us. Often their wise council comes from their own fear and limitation of what’s possible for them, hence, what they think is possible for us.
I have been whistling since I was a kid. It brought me a happy-go-lucky vibe. Growing up, I never heard the phrase, “Good Girls Don’t Whistle”. So when I did hear this from an educated relative, I was amused. What annoyed me more was the way my gender could be casually used to shun my joy. “How come this is still allowed? Where are our ethics and social etiquette now?” I wondered.
Back then, I couldn’t gather all the words to speak everything I say in this poem. All I felt was stark disbelief. The explanation was so obvious I felt it wasn’t needed. But the unorganised words lingered.