A woman is a lot like an art exhibit

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A woman is a lot like an art exhibit.

Silent. Static. Unmoving. Reserved. A crowd of people pass by without even a second glance. Mostly apathetic, they continue their daily routine. No one dares to listen to what they have to say because it’s ‘always just the same thing all over again’. The similarities unnerved me.

Unlike with a forum, a performance, a conference, or a debate, an art exhibit says nothing direct. Everything up to interpretation.

A woman is a lot like an art exhibit.

Full of subtleties. Hidden meanings. Untold stories. All of which could only be revealed when one dared enough to step closer.

A woman is a lot like an art exhibit.

Judged at, looked at, spat on in disgust. Their skins vandalized, dignity sacrificed, parts stolen, voices still unheard.

I thought commands such as “Please don’t touch” was common sense.

A woman is so so much like an art exhibit.

Appreciated by some, seen by many. Some stand by in awe to understand their meaning, others step on them with no regret.

We, as artists, can shape them.

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