When I was at school I participated (for many years) in a club called Writer’s Circle. It was an after-school activity which involved a few girls who were interested in writing. I did this throughout my high school career. I’ve always loved writing but I wasn’t very good at it. Attending these lessons and being surrounded by girls who were equally as enthusiastic as I was helped me grow as a writer. I was able to improve my own skills in a positive environment and was exposed to other styles. When I went to university I had to leave this behind. After 5 years of having to write something new every week, I felt creative-writing withdrawal so a friend and I decided to gate-crash the current circle while I was in Jo’burg. We wanted to really feel a part of it and so even went as far as to write a piece on the theme they had been given for homework.
I was busy and distracted and so left the writing to a rushed 15 minutes just before the lesson but I was still pleased with the outcome and simply excited to be writing creatively.
The week’s challenge had been to write a work from the perspective of a child, aged 5 to 13, and the topic was ‘A lesson I will never forget’.
The piece I wrote was called ‘Books are for Boys’ and here it is:
Daddy teaches me lots of things. Always when I am with him I must learn. He has this room in the house. It is big and round and the walls are made of books. I am not allowed in this room without daddy. Me and Amarah call it the secret room because it holds all the worlds secrets. Daddy is so smart, he knows everything.
Every night me and Amarah and daddy have learning time. Daddy told me I must know all that is in the world if it is ever to be mine. It is his job to teach me. Daddy gets home in the evening, eats what mama has made and then rings a special bell and yells “Tahil,” and we must come. I am older so he addresses me. I sit on his lap and Amarah sits at his feet.
The other kids get stories before bed but not us. We learn about a different thing everyday.
Well we used to.
We don’t anymore. Amarah isn’t allowed in now. Daddy doesn’t teach her anymore because he is angry.
Amarah went in to the secret room without daddy. Amarah loves books. She can’t read them herself but she always sits and holds them and pretends to. Daddy has this old book. It is as heavy as an elephant and is as old as the prophet.
Amarah has always wanted to read it but daddy said no so she went in without him. When he found out he was very angry. He shouted so loud like a giant. I was scared so I covered my ears and hid.
Now Amarah has a scar on her face like mama’s.
Amarah doesn’t learn from the books anymore. Amarah doesn’t like books anymore.
And I now know books are for boys and not girls.
This is a very rushed and roughed piece and by no means my best work but I enjoyed writing it so much that I had to post it. I believe that sexism is very much alive and I wanted to somehow show this because it is currently an issue at the fore front of my mind. I also wanted to show how easy it is to manipulate and change a child’s bias.
I mean no offence by this work and it is purely fictional but I was just very excited to write it and wanted to share some of my more creative work with you because I don’t think you get to see that often.
x J
Plain Old Glasses 