To be born a girl

When would it be the right place, right time, right people for me to be born
A home where my people aren’t scared that I am born
A time when my people aren’t wishing that I were a boy
A time when my people aren’t praying that I be married
A society where my people won’t reduce me to a baby-making machine
A room where my people aren’t thinking of raping me
A country where a court doesn’t have to decide whether I can visit a temple
A kitchen where pickle won’t mind that I bleed

Don’t ask me why am I a rebel
You ask me to take a right,
I shall take an extreme left
That’s how my own teach me to survive