3rd Weekly Meeting: Women Empowerment

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Homecoming Queen

by: Shima Sari Dewi

“I want to be the homecoming queen.” said Alesya.
“Oh no-no, dear. That place is not for us. In fact, no one notice us either in this school. Just dont ever get your dreams too high, reality will break you down.” I said, trying to get her back to face the reality, our reality.
“Aren’t you tired for always being invisible? We are in high school years, we supposed to do something that would break the record in history…at least in our lives!” her eyes sparkled as she touched the paper, wrote down her name under the words of “Homecoming Queen Nominee.”
I sighed. Spending so many years to be friends with Alesya can be tiring. She believes in “You can do it!”. I am a feminist, but come on, no one would choose nerdy girls as the homecoming queen, right?

We lay down under the tree, mumbled and complained towards every shit that being thrown on us in high school. We wondered how it feels like to be cherished by everyone every time someone called our names out.

“That’s it!” “That’s what?”
“I can help every girl out there to be brave enough to dream! If I were the homecoming queen, then I can help others to have a dream too!” she said.
“No, Alesya. I thought we were agree about how cruel people in high school?” “No. That won’t stop me.”

So the day goes by. She would do anything to campaign her project. Dare to Dream. Well, of course, reality spitted out on her. No one would really care about us, nerdy girls. Even the sport boys started to laugh on us.
But it never stop her.

There came the d-day. Prom. Everyone seemed to get ready and enjoy themselves at the event. Only Alesya, who sat down feeling nervous after all.
“What if I don’t make it?” “Hey, you said everyone dares to dream. We’ll see.” I could not hide my nervous too. So I sat with her, hold her hands as if I hold my dreams.
There came the announcement of the homecoming queen.

But her name was not mentioned.
She was about to cry. Her eyes were teary.

Not even any sparks that I saw days before were there. It was all gone.
“I was too naive, right? To think everyone could think about me too?”
“No. You just lost a bit of your balance now.”
She looked up to me with her doubtful eyes.
“Come on. First rejection? First failure? Great women would not stop only because of their failures, right?” I said.

Years pass by. And I try to watch TV and randomly change the channel. There she is. Wearing her best dress, standing with another beautiful women, on the event called “Miss Universe.” As she raises her mic, she opens up her mic and say,

“My friend makes me believe that I am not afraid of first rejection or first failure, because great women would not stop only because of their failures.”

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