"Amma I have blisters on my hands" I said to my mother, after a rope climbing session with my father outside my house.
Amma looked at my small red blistered hands and put them under a tap of cold running water.
"So... how far up the neem tree did you get today?" asked amma. I said "I made it to the top of the tree". Amma warned me when I was 6 that my hands would become rough if i continued to climb ropes.
By 13, I was a classified tom boy. My friends in school on several occasions told me that I should have been born a boy. My father was extremely proud of the fact that he had made me tough, tough enough to whack anyone who tried to remotely act funny with his little girl.
"Amma I have the roughest hands in my class" I said to to my mother after a game of hand comparing we had in school. "I told you your hands would get rough a long time ago didn't I?, There's nothing wrong with rough hands though; Infact I think it's a good thing that you don't have soft hands; Tell me how many children in your class can play basketball like you?"
Although I was a little sad that I didn't have feminine hands, I was happy that I was not like the "others" who compared nail colour, hair or clothes. I was different. And my parents encouraged it.
Amma looked at my small red blistered hands and put them under a tap of cold running water.
"So... how far up the neem tree did you get today?" asked amma. I said "I made it to the top of the tree". Amma warned me when I was 6 that my hands would become rough if i continued to climb ropes.
By 13, I was a classified tom boy. My friends in school on several occasions told me that I should have been born a boy. My father was extremely proud of the fact that he had made me tough, tough enough to whack anyone who tried to remotely act funny with his little girl.
"Amma I have the roughest hands in my class" I said to to my mother after a game of hand comparing we had in school. "I told you your hands would get rough a long time ago didn't I?, There's nothing wrong with rough hands though; Infact I think it's a good thing that you don't have soft hands; Tell me how many children in your class can play basketball like you?"
Although I was a little sad that I didn't have feminine hands, I was happy that I was not like the "others" who compared nail colour, hair or clothes. I was different. And my parents encouraged it.
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