Torn Ribbon

In an alternate reality, if I was born by the hand of a pastry chef, I’ll become a 2-tier blueberry cheesecake covered by torn fondant ribbon and decorated with carnation flowers.

The ribbon that binds me shows that I still live beneath the patriarchism shadow. Demanded to be strong, but tender and sweet to serve. Ruled by the other’s standards and expectations.

But even in the alternate version, I still love to be free. So, I tear this suffocating ribbon and show that I deserve to live in my own way.