By Vicky Nalubega

What does it cost to be born a girl in a world that often decides her future before she can speak for herself? In “The Cost of Being Born a Female,” Vicky Nalubega examines the expectations placed on women, the silence surrounding domestic violence and the struggle to preserve dignity and independence within marriage.

Through powerful questions and images of flowers, mountains and broken homes, the poem calls for a society where women can love without losing themselves, speak without fear and build families without surrendering their freedom.

And then comes a day…
When a girl is born into this world.

A little girl,
A daughter,
A woman in the making.

But before she learns the meaning of life,
The world has already written rules for her to follow.

Girls are like flowers,
Standing beside the roads,
Their existence admired by passers-by.

Like flowers,
They attract insects.
Like concerts,
They draw crowds.
Like posters on the roadside,
Their presence is noticed.
Even those who never seem to care
Still glance.

But who sees beneath the petals?
Who hears the silent cries in the bathrooms?
Who can imagine the weight of pain women carry in secret?
How can her pain even be noticed
Behind the beautiful smile she wears in public?

A woman may be married
And beautiful,
Yet still be judged by a world that calls her ugly.

Unfortunately,
The world still finds a reason to look at her,
Speak about her,
And decide what she should do.

And when she finally marries,
Does she get married with her freedom?
This is a question to be considered privately.

Or does she enter a home
Where her voice becomes a stranger,
Where her dreams are made to kneel,
Or where her husband forgets
That she is a human being, too?

She starts her home with a pure heart,
Full of love,
Hoping to build a home,
Hoping to raise a family,
Hoping that love will be enough.

But unfortunately,
Sometimes love becomes the reason for her suffering.

“Let me keep my marriage,” she whispers.
“Let me keep my family,” she pleads.

And slowly, she begins to sacrifice her voice
To preserve the very home
That is breaking her heart.

That is why some have become hard,
Because softness has cost them too much.

Some learn to stand like mountains
Because life has treated them like dust.

And those who remain gentle
Are sometimes mistaken for weak,
As though a tender heart
Were a crime against the world.

But tell me,
Must a woman become a stone
Before she can be respected?

Must she buy her kindness
Before she can defend her dignity?

And what of the women
Who have fought their way through marriages,
Who have survived the storms,
Who have learned to speak without trembling?

Even they
Are questioned.
They are judged.
Their courage is termed rebellion.

When women gather to speak,
Their stories travel from one heart to another.
Their wounds become conversations.
Their whispers become thunder.

This is because pain has a language,
And sooner or later,
The world begins to hear.

But still, before the world hears,
A woman who speaks for herself
Is termed a family assassin.

When she questions injustice,
Society says,
“She is disrespectful.”

When she demands to be heard,
They ask her who gave her permission.

So tell me…

What can a woman stand against
When her own home becomes a battlefield?

What can she say
When every truth she speaks
Is answered with an objection?

How can she protect her family
When no one asks who’s protecting her?

How can she be a wife
And still be herself?

How can she be a mother,
A daughter, a sister, a friend,
And still remember…
That she is a human being
With dreams of her own?

Today, I ask the world:

Must marriage silence a woman?
Must love demand her surrender?
Must tradition become a prison
Where her voice is buried alive?

The world should remember:

A woman is not merely a flower
For the world to admire.

She is not a possession
For a man to claim.

She is a mind that thinks,
A heart that feels,
A soul that dreams,
A voice that deserves to be heard.

Let her speak…
Without being called disloyal.

Let her stand…
Without being called proud.

Let her question…
Without being called rebellious.

Let her love…
Without losing herself.

Let her marry
Without burying her freedom.

Because a woman should not have to choose
Between dignity and belonging,

Between speaking the truth
And keeping her home,

Between being loved…
And being allowed to exist as herself.

And if the world can hear the songs of men,
Why must it silence the cries of women?

If justice has a voice,
Let it speak for her.

If humanity has a heart,
Let it beat for her.

If marriage is built on love,
Let that love make room for the truth.

I am not asking for the world
To place women over men.

I am asking for a world
Where neither stands above the other.

A world where a woman’s voice is not a threat,
Her softness is not weakness,
And her strength is not a crime.

A world where she can say,
“This is who I am,”
Without fearing that she will lose
Everything she has ever loved.

Until that day comes…

Let the stories be told.

Let the silence be broken.

Justice against domestic violence.
Justice for HANNIFAH NAKIRYOWA.
Justice for JANE DOE.
Justice for girls.

Because their voices matter.