“It’s a sultry and sweltering day in Rajasthan, India.”

A young woman aged 19 years gives birth to an unimpeachable little girl that smiles her way into the world, suddenly a young man bombards into the room and pulls out a gun. The last thing the young women remembers is the sound of three gunshots, BANG, BANG, BANG. She and the little infant were shot for no reason other than their gender. . . WE WILL FIGHT until girls don’t live with fear of getting killed because they are not men. WE WILL FIGHT until gender equality and education are a freedom, a right, and an expectation for everyone.

This is the first stanza of a piece of poetry my friend and I wrote and performed at our school play. My friend and I shared a common and prevailing topic, an equality in all forms, feminism in particular. It all started on a cold December night when my friend and I sat in our library and we could not help but examine the bold white rafters which ran overhead, bearing upon their metallic shoulders with the weight of the atmosphere around them. The crepuscular rays steamed through the glass planes, casting a reflection of people walking beneath them.Meticulously staring at the reflections we realized we are all the same regardless of our...

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