A couple of days ago, the company I work for invited staff to submit their definition of freedom, in anticipation of Freedom Day – 27 April – yesterday. I don’t try to write poetry very often, but on this occasion my thoughts formed something vaguely resembling a poem so I thought I’d record the words here.
I close my eyes for a minute and dwell on what I’d be willing to fight for.
What I’ve fought for
What I haven’t had to fight for, because others have fought the fight.
That is my freedom.
To be treated, regardless of gender, as the equal that I am. That is freedom.
To vote, and for whomever I choose. That is freedom.
To wear a short skirt or a cropped top without fear of rape or abuse. That is freedom.
To wear clothes that cover fully, wear a burka or hijab or niqab. That is freedom.
To not wear them, to not worship at all. That is freedom.
To be gay, straight or anywhere on the spectrum in-between, without judgement or ridicule. That is freedom.
To recognise colour but not judge or be judged based on it. That is freedom.
If it’s worth fighting for… that which you feel so strongly about.
That there is FREEDOM.