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Iam a woman and iam absent
Sometimes, my value is judged based on the depth of my neckline, the length of my skirt, the shade of my lipstick, or the intensity of my laughter. At times, I am considered nothing more than a receptacle for bearing children, a doormat to be walked all over, a symbol of marriage, or just a shoulder to cry on. And most of the time, I am both everything and nothing at all. I am a woman, yet frequently, I am excluded from my own story.
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