I can not imagine living without my
voice. A crystal clear voice which when
heard makes a great difference between life and death. Taking a look at Africa, through the eyes of an African, well-educated and mature woman, all I see are hopeless and tear-stained faces, creatures that are screaming through their present situations to be heard. Where are their voices, I
wonder? What has taken their voices, I wonder? Why aren’t they shouting to be heard, I wonder? Who is
supposed to hear them, I wonder? This is worsened if it is an African woman, especially one that was brought up to be a second-class citizen, one who is only seen as a child-bearing and sex machine and not leaving out the driver of producing food in the fields under the scorching hot sun with a baby strapped on her skinny back. Honestly, how can she use her voice seeing that she has never set foot in a classroom since time immemorial. I could not imagine living without my voice, a voice that defines my destiny and my position in society. A voice that is
able to choose, and a voice that can confidently say yes or no at the appropriate place and time, and it is a
powerful weapon indeed. Everybody knows that the person that conquers victoriously in any battle is the one that has the most powerful weapon. You take away my voice, you take away my passion, and I become powerless like those hopeless women and that would make my future very uncertain and bleak. The only way I am able to do things I am passionate about, is because of my voice and I would not trade it for anything in the world-not even diamonds, which are supposed to be every woman’s best friend. (302 words)
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