To my first true love,
Dad, I was always like this. Your rebel kid. Thank you, for letting me be the dauntless one. I knew you knew everything I did, the rebel in me was a characteristic trait I got from you.
I know you secretly smiled when I wrote you letters and slipped it into your briefcase because a face to face encounter would be no less than a US Vs. Russia crusade.
You kept all letters safely. Haven’t you Dad ?
I know you never liked me putting too much kohl or wearing long earrings that made me look twice my age. But you knew I always wanted to stand out from crowd, so you let me exercise my choice.
But, I also remember when you said sexism doesn’t exist and asked me to carry pepper spray in same breath. You couldn’t look into my eye.
I am your rebel kid, dad. Don’t you worry.
In this complex patriarchal society, when you shredded one spectrum of masculinity and took up the role as the caretaker of the house when mom was pursuing her dreams, I saw the glimpse of the man I would want to be with in future.
Thank you, for proudly standing by my side when I chose arts over sciences and had those glaring family stares and impotent questions slapped on my head.
A dad’s involvement in his daughter’s life is a crucial ingredient in the development of a young woman’s self-esteem. Thank you for hearing my school debates a 1000 times over, the much needed encouragement before math exam and those countless cups of black coffee during boards.
For saying, “I love you” and “I am sorry” to make me understand that a man can say these words.
Thank you for picking up that one mismatched outfit for me and claiming to ace the 21st century fashion trends.
Sarcasm is a dangerous tool for dad’s. But your daughter is too smart, she probably already knows that. Right ?
Thank you for being my ally.
Your rebel daughter
Note: This blog post has been published as a part of a collaboration between Women’s Development Cell, Miranda House and Breakthrough India.