15 hour shift.

The battle was won with much ferocity and effort as humanly possible. No, the attempt was frail, yet it was a struggle nonetheless. I combed through my soaked hair and felt for tangles, letting the cool water drip down my back, shoulders, and chest, some of it even reaching my thighs. A long days work has ended once again and the cycle will go on for many many more months, perhaps even years. But the inevitable will happen and it will be all worth it: university, move to Boston, making a world shaking difference, married life one day then motherhood. Not necessarily in that order. Beyond what’s expected of me as a woman, I know I will prevail through the gender roles imposed on me, and not only that but also over the stigmas of various nature. The complexity of life, much like the tangles on my hair, will be there but it will not get in the way of my wanting it straightened and looking the way I want it to, just as I imagined. 

So this evening I brush my hair, knowing that every strand will not fall into place according to my every whims, but it will be unique. It will be mine and it will be exactly what I wanted. One day I will awaken to that perfect hair day and only my reflection will affirm that it is.