Delta Women February Issue Beauty

8/3/2019 Delta Women February Issue Beauty

http://slidepdf.com/reader/full/delta-women-february-issue-beauty 1/27

Volume 2 . Issue

February 20A MAGAZINE FOR WOMENALL AROUND THE WORLD

PLUS:

The Beauty o Speaking Up

A PersonalNote OnBeauty

GlamorousPortraits o DeltaWomenSta

OriginalPhotographs

GlamorousPoems

Stories onBeauty

And More!

BEAUTY

DeltaWOmen



Contents 3 The Beauty o Speaking Up (Paola Bri-gneti)

5 Women Through The Eyes o A Woman(Kirthi Jayakumar)

6 Feat (Kirthi Jayakumar)

7 Beauty (Eleanor Bennett) 8 Standards o Beauty In the Media (SimaJarrah)

8 Glamorous Poems

9 Words From A Man (Hadi Barazandeh)

9 Beauty Advice (Christy Lynch)

10 A Personal Note On Beauty (KatherineVasquez Tarazona)

11 Women Through The Eyes o A Woman

(Kirthi Jayakumar) 12 Objects In The Mirror (Kaleigh Maguire)

12 75 Words From A Woman (Lylin Aguas)

13 An Interview With A True Beauty (ElahehZohrevandi)

13 Words From A Woman (Eat Allahyari)

14 When You Let (Eat Allahyari)

14 Beauty And Punishment (Elaheh Zohre-vandi)

15 Memoirs O Dorcie (Sinmisola Ogúny-inka)

16 Glamorous Portraits o Our Sta

21 Photography

25 She Carries A Past Deserving Respect(Part 2) (Elaheh Zohrevandi)

Editor: Elaheh Zohrevandi

Production Coordinator: Elsie Reed

Designer: Elaheh Zohrevandi

Proofing: Kirthi Gita Jayakumar, Aanchal Kumar

Photographer: Effat Allahyari

Information is correct at press time.

Check deltawomen.blogspot.com for updates.

DeltaWomen is published monthly by the DeltaWomen(NGO) at 2nd Floor 145-157 St John Street, EC1V 4PWLondon, United Kingdom. Signed articles do not neces-sarily reflect the official company policy. © 2012 Delta-

Women. All rights reserved. Reproduction in part orwhole without permission is prohibited.

EDITOR’S NOTE

BEAUTY, IS IT MINE?!

It’s all said but not everything is really

done when it comes to beauty and

women. We have all seen Beauty and

The Beast, Cindrella and we have all

discovered the beauty in the Beast and

Cinderella. But which one has always

been beautiul to you?

Let me put it this way, Who was the

beautiul person you irst saw when

you opened your eyes to this world?

Yes, Mama!

It was not her ace that got you, it was

THE LOVE she gave you.

I want to dedicate this issue to each

and every mother on earth who shared

the beautiul love to a child.

As Helen Keller once claimed, The best

and most beautiul things in the world

cannot be seen or even touched. They

must be elt with the heart.Beauty, Please be mine.

Elaheh Zohrevandi - Editor

NEW TO DELTAWOMEN

Special Announcement

DeltaWomen currently accepts sub-

missions rom all over the world.

I you ever eel like you’ve got some-

thing to say about women, the world around

them and the world within, just drop us a line and

we’ll eature you in. Check deltawomen.blogspot.

com or submission Guidelines.



However, as Audrey Hepburn,hersel a truly beautiul woman,once said: “The beauty o awoman is not in the acial modebut the true beauty in a womanis relected in her soul. It is thecaring that she lovingly givesthe passion that she shows.”We seldom see this complete-beauty-package marketedby those in charge o settingsocietal norms and expecta-tions.Sometimes it eels like theemphasis on inner beauty issacriiced by the pressing needto sell the importance o beingbeautiul on the outside.

This lack o sources o inspira-tion is not actually a situationwhere there is a “lack” o them.In act, when I think aboutbeauty in terms o strength,

dedication, and soululness,I immediately think o onewoman: WarisDirie, supermodel,emale genital mutilation survi-vor, and United Nations SpecialAmbassador or the Eliminationo Female Genital Mutilation.

WarisDirie was born in theSomali desert, near the Ethio-pian border in 1965. Her amilywas nomadic and traditional.When Waris turned ive, she wasorced to undergo the cruel pro-cedure known as emale genitalmutilation (FGM) or emale geni-

tal cutting (FGC).

For those who are not amil-iar with this procedure, FGMinvolves intentionally alteringand injuring emale genitalorgans or non-medical reasons.FGM consists o the partial ortotal removal o the externalemale genitalia. This procedurehas no health beneits or theover 100 to 140 million girlsand women worldwide who arecurrently living with the conse-quences derived rom it.

In reality, FGM has the potentialonly toharm girls and women. Itinvolves removing and damag-ing healthy and normal emalegenital tissue, and it interereswith the natural unctions o girls and women’s bodies. Tomake matters worse, the pro-cedure is usually carried out byuntrained individuals who donot use painkillers or sterilizedequipment, which increases therisk or complications such aspain, shock, tetanus or otherbacterial inections, urine reten-tion, open sores and other

injuries to the genital region. The long-term consequences o FGM range rom having recur-rent bladder and urinary tractinections to an increased risk o childbirth complications and thedeath o newborns. Every year,hundreds o girls and womendie as a result o FGM.

Needless to say, there is nothingbeautiul about this procedure.In act, undergoing such a terri-ble practice can only jeopardizethe lives o those who couldotherwise become beautiulwomen. Sadly, this horrible tra-dition is still practiced in severalcountries around the world. TheUnited Nations estimates thatapproximately eight thousand

girls worldwide are orced toundergo FGM every day.

In a demonstration o extraor-dinary strength and bravery,WarisDirie did not let this hei-nous actstop her rom beingbeautiul, either inside or out-side. When she turned thirteenshe was orced into anotherhorrendous traditional practice:child marriage. Unwilling tocarry on with her orced unionto a much older man, Waris ledher homeland.One night, beorethe marriage took place, she let

her house. Without any ood orwater, she ran bareoot or daysacross the desert. Weeks passedbeore she reached Mogadishu,the capital o Somalia. Thereshe reached out to amily andas a result o a series o ateulevents, she made her way toLondon, England to work as amaid or her uncle who was anAmbassador.

Lie in London was not easyor a young Somali girl whocould not speak English andwho had never received any

kind o education. However, shestayed positive and allowed herinner beauty to always shine.Ater she escaped her home inSomalia, she had experienceda close encounter in which shenearly was eaten by a lion. Hav-ing survived such an ill-atedencounter convinced her thatshe could overcome any obsta-cles she would ever ace in herlie. Due to this inner strengthand sel-conviction, she was ableto make a living well ater heruncle returned to Somalia (herespected her desire to stay in

The Beauty o SpeakingUpPaola Brigneti

Beauty is indeed in the eye o the beholder. Even

though society tries to impose some standards o

beauty upon us, in the end we are the ones who choose

what really appeals to our senses. For each individual

person, beauty takes a dierent orm and has a dierent

meaning. We should not be orced to buy into a one-

size-its-all beauty concept simply because it is what

society demands. Ater all, who is better at deciding

what appeals to people i not people themselves?

When we hear the word “beauty”, some o us think

o moments in which we were happy. Beauty can dei-

nitely reer to moments, and not just objects. For oth-

ers, beauty might evoke images o gorgeous women

strolling down a catwalk wearing the latest ashion. This

last one is certainly one o the most pushed images o

beauty: in order to be beautiul, women need to look

like models.

Article o The Month



London by hersel). It was ater her uncle’s departure that she enteredthe modeling world and became amous.

Aterhavingdonned the pages o world-amous magazines like Elle,Vogue and Marie Claire, and having also become a “Bondgirl”,Waris hadcertainly come a long way rom the dreadul day when her own mothersat her on a hot rock in the desert to be circumcised by a strangewoman. However, or many years, the pain was as alive as it had beenon the day the cutting had happened (at some point she had correctivesurgery). Her physical pain maniested during urination, as it took herup to ten minutes to do what most women do in less than one. For oneweek o the month, during menstruation, she would suer rom inde-scribable pain as well. Her mind was also tormented by the event. Sheresented that she would never experience any sexual pleasure in her lie.Most importantly, she was haunted by the act that many girls in Aricacontinued to become victims o FGM every day.

Almost twenty years ater leaving Somalia, WarisDirie was considered tobe one o the most beautiul women in Arica and the world. Her gor-geous ace, which got the attention o Mike Goss, the photographer whodiscovered her when she was just a young girl, became an example o impeccable beauty and perection. However, deep inside, Waris was stillighting an internal battle.During an interview with Marie Claire maga-zine in 1997, she armed hersel with courage and shared her not-so-

beautiul story with the world. We can all agree that such selless actions

and her willingness to expose her innermost secret made Waris evemore beautiul than she already was.

The same year her interview with Marie Claire came out, Waris wasinvited to join the United Nations Population Fund in their ight to FGM. Currently, Waris is a United Nations Special Ambassador or thElimination o FGM. She is one o the main people ighting FGM arothe world. At age 47, she continues to be an example o beauty ostunning physical eatures. However, she has become a lot more th just a pretty ace. She is now an example o courage and perseveraHer ight against FGM did not stop ater her interview, but insteadstarted that day and has gained momentum ever since.

In 2002, Waris ounded the WarisDirie Foundation to support her wan international advocate against FGM. In 2010, the oundation wanamed “Desert Flower Foundation.” Currently,Warisspeaks alongsideretaries o State, national leaders, Nobel Prize-winners, and internatstars to raise awareness about FGM in an attempt to put an end toinhumane practice. She is ighting to keep all girls and women beaby keeping their natural physical state unaltered. She celebrates wothe way they are and she does it by using her lie as an example ocan be accomplished. She is, in every way, a role model or what trbeauty is all about.

Article of The Month



Women Through The Eyes of A Woman

GraceKirthi Jayakumar



played with the air through

a series o ondus, swing-

ing about mirthully, like a

child.

She stepped orwards with

an Avant, and pirouttedin the air, landing gently

on her eet, as she rushed

into a dizzying ouette

rond de jamb en tournant,

turning delicately on one

leg, graceully kicking the

other. The music bubbled

and rothed, building

slowly with little waves.

The crescendo wept

through, and she threwhersel into a graceul arc, a

magniicent glissade, and

glided into a lamboyant

grand jete, jumping in the

air, with a split bathed in

inesse. Bubbles o light

erupted, bathing her in a

divine glow. She glistened

in the pure light, exuding

joy, spilling happiness,

through a graceul set o hortensia, as she jumped

up delicately, pulling both

legs into passe, placing one

oot placed near the other

knee. The music bubbled

out, as the notes grew

soter, and soter. With one

last grand jete, the jump,

and hovered in the air.

With a gently swit move,

she landed on eet with aperect pique. For the irst

time, I saw her ace. As the

music bowed out, growing

soter and soter, the light

grew dim as the mist came

back, thicker. Through the

misty curtain I looked in

wonder at the dancer’s

ace.

I stared back at my own

ace, the ace o the dancer

And then it grew black,

blacker than the deep

chasm I elt inside.

Suddenly, someone wascalling my name. I wasn’t a

pair o eyes anymore, now.

I had my body back. I heard

voices. My eyelids elt like

lead, my tongue elt glued

to the roo o my mouth. I

remembered vaguely eel-

ing something in my chest

beore, like an Iron Fist

squeezing it. I remember

sliding into my wheelchair,into a cataleptic stupor,

I remember everything

going black.

A desultory voice droned.

Well there is nothing we

can do, really. Her condi-

tion, the Emery-Dreiuss

Muscular Dystrophy aects

the Heart- and this is just

one o these times. Myo-

cardial inarctions canoccur anytime, and you

will need to have someone

around her all the time.

An exasperated voice

retorted. English!

Heart attacks, I meant. She

could have heart attacks

oten. But there’s nothing

in our hands that can stop

them. These heart prob-

lems stem rom abnormali-ties o the electrical signals

that control the heartbeat

and abnormal heart

rhythms. We could have

treated these abnormali-

ties i she came in earlier,

but now they have led to a

bradycardia, an unusually

slow heartbeat.

Is that it? We just stand and

FeatKirthi Gita JayakumarIt was dark, as black as the night that lives in the eyes o

one deprived o sight. I hadn’t any idea where the dark-

ness began, where it ended. Or i my eyes were open,or i they were closed with a sot satin curtain that bled

black. I elt I was made o eyes, just a pair, and nothing

else. A sot note sounded somewhere in the distance, and

then another, and another. Slowly, little beads o sound

meandered into droplets, and the tune anned out as the

tiny droplets broke into music that poured in rom some-

where. A thin mist ormed beore my eyes, slowly, but

stubbornly inching its way around the darkness. It swirled

beore me, rothing as it danced in waves, until the dense

black beore me was sheathed in a denser tunic o white,

a mist so deep that my eyes drowned in them.Suddenly, a burst o light shot through the mist, dispel-

ling the sheath into oblivion. As the oggy curtain whirled

out o my sight, I watched a tiny orm, cocooned in a tiny

curve, with its head cradled in its arms, lying supine like a

peaceul child, while dressed nattily in the garb o a bal-

lerina. I watched it unold, draw itsel up. A stratesque girl

stood beore me, her orm immaculate, posture upright,

stance overpowering. The music lowed like a meander-

ing river, dancing in my ears like a renzied airy. She

strutted on her toes, poised, querulous and ponderous

at the same time, as she wore her erontery with brazencandour.

I saw her eet titter on the spot. Testing the waters it

seemed. Standing arabesque, her light orm teeteered

on one leg, while her other leg extended straight behind

her body, her stretched orm singing paeans o ambition.

And then suddenly, an arriere, One step back. Swinging

orwards with a gentle surging spring, the movements

began to evolve into an Allegro, speedy, energized and

ierce. With aquiline overtones and steeped in aplomb,

she lew into a journey o aggrandizement, syncopating

her perormance with a paroxysm o grace and charm.Caution lew to the winds, she danced with gay aban-

don. Her steps ringed the music with magic, as it swung

upwards, meandering into a bubbling soliloquy, build-

ing up to a crescendo. Her eet swung into a graceul Pas

de Chat, cat-like, as she launched hersel rom a gentle

Plie, clambering onto the air in swit little movements. As

though she had a secret pact with the air, to hold her or

the little moments that she seemed to hover, she coni-

dently burst into bloom, showing her proclivity towards

deying gravity. And then with a light lick o her eet, she

GLAMOROUS STORY



watch? Watch her dreams

walk out on her while she

remains tied to the wheel-

chair? She wants to dance,

Doctor. Do you have any

idea how it eels to see that

ace crumple everytime

those eet itch to move?

I’m sorry, Sir. But this is

about all medicine can do.

With her condition, she

can’t do much, leave alone

dance. And I eel sorry

or that, truly. But there is

nothing I can do.

Through my weakness, I

smiled- maybe inside, or

maybe they saw it.

I knew something they

didn’t. I just danced, I just

did. And I was beautiul.

Eleanor Leonne Bennett is a 15 year old photographer and artist who has won contests with National

Geographic,The Woodland Trust, The World Photography Organisation, Winstons Wish, Papworth

Trust, Mencap, Big Issue, Wrexham science , Fennel and Fern and Nature's Best Photography.

BEAUTY



Standards o Beauty Inthe Media

Sima Jarrah

Women rom a very young age are

constantly being exposed to images

o beauty through the media. Theyare unconsciously trained to want

to look perect. For instance, Barbie

dolls which are what every little girl

wants represent eatures o a super-

woman and perect igure, although

studies have shown that propor-

tions o this doll i it were a real lie

women would be very unhealthy,

Hence, girls grow up wanting to

look this perect and beautiul,

meanwhile the media is taking

advantage o people to sell products

o the market.

What are the perect standards o

beauty and who sets these stan-dards? How does the media portray

women and how much o what they

portray is real? There is immense

pressure on teenagers these days to

it certain images projected by the

media.

Beauty standards have been chang-

ing across time and are dierent

across cultures.Not until the 1960s

onwards that the image o ull ig-

ured curvy women which was con-

sidered beautiul started to shit to

a slimmer body igure. Merilyn Mon-

roe was considered a sex symbol in

the 60s, i she lived today would shehave had to eel the pressure o los-

ing weight?!

Advertisement in the media is an

industry that earns more than 100

billion dollars every year. Irrespective

o whether we intend to or not, we

are aected by it. The media can

oten be a powerul orce that can

change perceptions and values. This

tool reshapes our sel worth and

sel image by selling concepts that

tell us what to eat, how to dress

and what size we should be by con-

stantly bombarding us with images

o beautiul people with perect

measurements. Beauty or us is what

we see on TV and in magazines,slim igures, perect healthy hair

and beautiul lawless complexion.

We automatically create a notion

o what we should look like and

eel the pressure to measure up. Inreality, not only this puts immense

strain on people receiving these

images, but also on the very same

women who are in these images.

In act,these images are airbrushed

and readjusted to create a Franken-

stein person with proportions that

are unrealistic. The dove ad clearly

exposes what really happens and

how its done in its video.

Teenagers are especially susceptible

and exposed because they are in

the phase o building their sel

worth and personality. Thereore,

they are receiving these images and

concepts and building their per-

sonality accordingly. Some studies

showed that girls begin watching

their weight as early as when they

are 7 years old. What teenagers are

learning rom these advertisements

is that a girl should always be slim,

pretty and lawless. They teach girls

that beautiul and thin can bring

happiness, acceptance and success.

There is big pressure to conormand oten people ind it diicult to

resist. However, studies have shown

that the exposure to such idealistic

portrayals have a negative eect

and can increase a person’s low sel

esteem and sometimes depression.

It is important or teenagers to

understand that while there are

women, models and celebrities in

the media who are beautiul each

in their own way, on TV or in an ad

they are transormed starting with

hours o makeup and preparation to

light eects and inally their photos

getting airbrushed. Even in movies,lighting and color are always edited

and enhanced ater ilming.

Fortunately, more pressure is being

put on the media to change these

perceptions.There are many celebri-

ties who are raising awareness con-

cerning this issue, celebrities who

are more curvy, but still beautiul,

showing teenage girls that beauti-

ul is not necessary slim and white,

it is being natural and appreciating

your special eatures that you were

born with.

Apocalyptic Morning

Valentina Cano

She studied the skies,

Her eyes a compass o light.

She opened her mouth,

Counting clouds,

Counting birds lying past

In rumbles o eathers.

It all meant something.

She knew.Every one o those bird eyes

Held a piece o a word.

She longed to string them up, like

dark beads,

And press them against the light,

Hoping to decipher the end.

An end.

From the promise o skies.

Extremities o Light

Valentina Cano

The man glanced across the jewel

He elt trapped

inside its wings,

sunlight streaming in

through cathedrals o smoke

and painted glass.

She sat in the back,

next to the kid withthe sun-spun hair.

Her eyes dipped down,

her ace ollowed.

A moon bathed in guilt.

The man clenched a hand,

a suocation o planets,

and turned to the river o light be

Valentina Cano is a student o classical singing who sp

whatever ree time either writing or reading. Her workhave appeared in Exercise Bowler, Theory Train, Cartier

Street Press, Berg Gasse 19, Precious Metals, A Handul

Dust, The Scarlet Sound, The Adroit Journal, Welcome t

Wherever, The Corner Club Press, Death Rattle, Sublimi

Interiors, Generations Literary Journal, Super Poetry

Highway and many more.

MEDIA GLAMOROUS POEM



Revamp Your Ward-robeChristy Lynch

Many of us have often peered into the closet and thought: I havenothing to wear! Running to the store and buying a new outfit on

impulse can be an expensive habit. Here are a few less expensive

ways to deal with this problem.

Reorganize: Even the smallest change can make a huge difference.

Think light colors instead of the bleak black that a lot of women

opt for. It’s a brand New Year! Dark clothing items must go!

Start by building a basic wardrobe filled with classic items. This

includes a few pairs of jeans, slacks, a blazer, a nice skirt, a go-to

cardigan, a casual dress, the little black dress, workout clothes, and

blouses in a few different colors.

Set up your wardrobe and do little fashion shows. Always try on

clothes in front of a full-length mirror. Inspect yourself from every

angle. See what works well together and what you feel comfort-

able in. You can then plan out a few outfits for work, dancing,

weekend activities or other social gatherings. Once you have the

basics, you can begin to expand your wardrobe a little at a time,

and purchase key pieces that reflect your personality and style.

You can look chic and stylish at all times without blowing your

budget for the sake of following the latest trend. Keep in mind

that trend has a short life! It’s all about how you coordinate your

outfits.

Accessorize: Sometimes a simple outfit can look completely differ-

ent with a scarf or a colorful belt.

Shop wisely: An expensive dress that you love and wear often is a

good deal. But an inexpensive dress that you only wear once may

not be a good deal in the long run. Consider how you will wear it

and what it will match in your current wardrobe.

Visit discount stores. Wait for sales. Have clothes custom-made.

There are plenty of ways to keep the cost down. Compare the

sales and specials from different stores. Then buy pants, dresses,

shorts, skirts and lighter cotton tops that will keep you comfort-

able, but not over-heated. Find some lighter shoes or sandals to

wear and a walking shoe for daily outings. Pick light colors for yournew clothes items. Colors such as pinks, greens and blues are a

really nice touch. Think about shades of these colors that comple-

ment your skin tone and bring out your inner glow.

Fast Facts:

• Checkthequality(fabric,stitching,etc.)andthewashing

instructions of any piece of clothing you buy.

• Clothesareemotionallycharged.Considerhavingsomeone

with you to guide you when you go shopping.

9

BEAUTY ADVICEWORDS FROM A MAN

The Ultimate BeautyHadi Barazandeh

verything can be beautiul or even more beautiul. Most o

he times, beauty depends on our own view. There is always a

oint at which when you look at, you ind things more beauti-ul so we may better wash our eyes to see clearer.

ry to imagine this: The day that in acting class I was told to

magine the only thing that could make me cry, I imagined

im. It turned into the most beautiul beauty...

magine you love someone. You do everything you believe is

ood or that someone. You wish or everything that makes

n improvement in that person’s lie. You love that person. The

mazing part is that you don’t want anything in return. Youwant nothing in exchange to all that help and love. Every time

hat person alls you grab their hand. You are always thinking

bout that person and are always by their side. Sometimes you

er a helping hand but the person rejects you and you never

et upset. You smile instead...

nd it hurts the most, the act that you see that the person

ou did everything or is going the wrong way or hurting their

wn body. You understand it, you try to send a message or a

messenger but the person leaves and goes the same wrong

way and hurts their very own sel the most. You don’t even goo say that you said so just not to make that person sad. You

ven try to help but you get rejected again...

ow ar can a broken heart go? Now you have no way except

unishing the only person you ever loved, cared about and

tood by. The person you were in love with...

ow diicult and heartbreaking it is, whatever God does or

s; or every single one o us, or we humans who most o the

mes show that we don’t deserve what we’re given. We don’tse the given things properly and live in a wrong way...

nd we make God, this existence that has proved that we have

een loved like a lover, punish us.

’s beautiul, the whole story o the reason why we are here

n this world. I wish there would come a day that everyone

ooks at the world rom the most beautiul point o view and

he world ills with beauty, not the things that make the world

ark and ugly.



Moving Words

A PERSONAL

NOTE ONBEAUTYKatherine Vásquez Tarazona

I was born 29 years ago on a Friday

aternoon, ater 20+ hours o labor.

The irst o three siblings, I was

extremely healthy. Nonetheless,

within my irst year o lie I developed

strabismus, colloquially known as

cross-eye, deviating eye, and squint,

among many others. This is a vision

condition in which the two eyes do

not line up in the same direction. The

simple explanation indicates that

strabismus is the loss (or inability) to

control at least one o the six muscles

surrounding the eyes. Thus, Strabis-mus could be a muscular problem or

a neurological one.

Its treatment is suggested due the

potential loss o vision on the eye(s)

aected by strabismus. Also, reading

problems may appear and it has been

noted that some coordination issues

come along with it, which gives me

a great excuse to be terrible at some

sports, I guess.

There are dierent types o strabis-

mus. Mine was congenital, since it

was developed in my early inancy,

unilateral (just on my let eye), and

esotropic, reerring to the directiono the eye (inwards in my case). My

pediatrician advised my parents to

wait and see i I could correct it by

mysel. By age six, I irst experienced

a surgery on the eye muscle and

earned a pair o eye glasses (I also

have astigmatism). I went through a

second intervention when I was 11

years old, ater suering a comeback

o the condition, something that is

to be expected in some cases. Lastly,

my third and inal eye-operation

occurred when I was 14. Anyone

who had met me ater this has never

noticed I suered rom strabismus

beore. Actually, I always reer this

to whoever is my optometrist at the

time, just in case. They usually smile,

look urther inside to conclude with asentence similar to this: “oh, I see. It’s

almost imperceptible”. Sigh.

I was pretty much unaware o my

condition up until I was ive. People

say that kids are cruel when it comes

to pointing out dierences. I do not

agree. Children are straight orward

and curious; adults, on the other

hand, are responsible o getting the

acts right or their kids. I they ail to

do it, myths and names are likely to

take place.

As a toddler, I lived in the protected

shield o amily. At kinder school we

weren’t many and I am guessing myteachers were cautious about this

condition. Then everything changed.

At ive, my parents initiated the

research on primary schools. Most

principals were concerned by my

slight dierence, calling it a disability,

stating that kids could be too cruel

with me and how this would intro-

duce me to some social problems

and even psychological scars. Dei-

nitely, this sort o argument rushed

me into the O.R. about when I was

starting my primary education.

As my irst intervention was a suc-

cess, I only went through the sameissues that any other child with

glasses would have. Thereore, names

as geek, our-eyes, and many others

came along. Those psychological

problems that were thoroughly

explained to my parents presented

anyway due to my pragmatic orna-

ment above my nose. As strabismus

returned, its “collateral damages”

appeared too. Genetically, I was

timid, and certainly the combination

o rough comments and scared looks

did not help to build a strong sel-

esteem. Thereore, I wasn’t comort-

able in either large or short groups.

Despite this all, my lie changed as I

grew up. I was involved with several

extracurricular activities (sports and

arts, or the most part). I requented

diverse groups o people with new

interest and no one seemed to spe-

cially care about any o my vision

conditions. Then, as a teenager, I let

the cocoon and built on conident.

I was rid o the strabismus but most

importantly, I learned to value mysel

on standards other than beauty or

other stereotypes.

My doctor suggested an eye inter-

vention to correct my astigmatism

about when I was iteen. I said

thanks but no, thanks. I adore wear-

ing glasses, without them I would not

be complete. More o a reminder o

what I went through as a child, they

are a note on my imperect-perect

me. I am sure I am not as cute or

pretty as I used to be as a teen, yet

I ind me beautiul as I never didbeore. I have learned to admire my

laws and asymmetries. My eyes are a

very important element o my char-

acter, since I usually speak with them

more than words. I still do not appre-

ciate when others cross their eyes or

un because the susceptibility has

not swept away. Though, it would be

silly o me to say that it bothers me

too much.

Would my lie have been any dier-

ent without the surgeries? Yes, no

doubt. I met someone with a severe

case o strabismus at law school. She

was older than the rest o us andvery quiet. Some o my classmates

made un o her at times and I elt

rustrated. It could be me, you know?

- I usually pointed out. And they

stopped.

Daily, we ind several examples o

strength and inspiration. Yet, we

ail to embrace the small cases that

are in our sight. For instance, when

a riend tells us that her/his son or

daughter has Down syndrome, our

natural response is sympathy instead

o empower their kids and welcome

them to a society that is still ighting

to embrace diversity. Beauty is, to oneextent, a preconceived vision o cer-

tain eatures that are easy accepted

by majorities. In other words, or the

most part, we deine beauty as a

mind-set. Do we even welcome other

possibilities? I am certain that some

o us do; more and more, younger

generations do too (at least this is

what I see in my sister, age 14).

Recently, I read Renee DuShane’s

story . She suers rom Peier Syn-

drome which has made her lie very

diicult. Usually, people with this

disorder do not complete adoles-

cence. She is 18 years old and with

one single post on her blog, she has

redeined society versus beauty. I

have copied a screenshot o her post

because o what she states: “you are

beautiul, even i you don’t realize it,

you are. Everyone is.”

I concur with this, everyone is beauti-

ul indeed.

Member-



Women Through The Eyes of A Woman

KIRTHI JAYAKUMAR

I L o v e M y s e l f

K i t h i J k



“It’s such a beautiul day.” Ellen sighed as sheregarded her slim, beautiul sister with nosmall measure o envy. Renée was recliningcomortably against the porch railing o hernewly acquired McMansion. What had shedone to deserve all o this, Ellen wondered.Unlike Ellen, Renée didn’t even have a col-lege degree. All she had ever done wasentice a handsome rich guy to marry her. It just didn’t seem air.

“Should we have the girls put on their swim-suits?” Renée oered in that crisp tone shehad adopted when she began her meteoricrise in social stature, a tone that reeked o

money and good luck.

Ellen didn’t want anyone – not even Renée– to see her daughter Marie in a bathingsuit but there was no way around it. Shehad inally run out o excuses. At least itwould only be in Renée’s backyard swim-ming pool and not at the beach like lastyear when Ellen had been mortiied bythe way Marie’s puppy at had bulged outrom her oversized swimsuit. But howeverembarrassing that had been, this year wouldbe so much worse. Ater Renée herded herown girls into their bedrooms, Ellen askedwhere she and Marie should change. Shehadn’t wanted Marie to change with Renée’s

girls. The less they saw o her the better.

“I’ll change in the study with you, mom.”Marie piped up, her tone bright in stark con-trast to the rings under her pale eyes, “Weatties need to stick together.”

When they were alone in the study, tearswelled in Ellen’s eyes as she watched Mariestruggle out o her baggy clothes.

“Something wrong, mom?”

“How can you ask me that?” Ellen’s voicewas sot, her limps trembling.

“C’mon mom. Don’t start that body imagestu again.” Ellen turned away rom herdaughter and reached or a tissue rom thebox on Renée’s desk. “Mom, please don’tcry. I’m just a little overweight is all.”

Marie touched her mother’s wrist tentatively,her cold ingertips chilling Ellen to the bone.Deep down Ellen knew this was all her ault.Her husband’s unceremonious departure,Marie’s condition. All o it. And there wasn’ta damn thing she could do about it. In herdesire to rival Renée’s achievements – bighouse, successul husband, and beauti-ul daughter – she had lost everything, or

maybe she just chose the wrong man. Whydid stupid Renée have to have all the luck?

In a it o rustration, Ellen grasped Marie’sshoulders and marched her to the guestbathroom. Forcing her daughter to acethe mirror, Ellen met her relected gaze, asharp pain stabbing at her when she caught

sight o Marie’s listless expression, “Just look at yoursel!”

“I’m sorry, mom. I know I need to lose someweight.”

With an aggravated breath, Ellen kicked thebathroom scales out rom under the counterand pushed her daughter roughly on tothem.

“Mom! What are you doing?”

“Lose some weight?” Ellen’s voice wasbecoming loud, hysterical, “Tell me what youweigh.”

Marie clutched at Ellen’s hands as sheregarded the display, “It’s not how it looks.You’re holding some o my weight.”

Ellen shook her daughter’s hands ree, tak-ing a step back, “Look again.”

Marie leapt rom the scale and began obses-sively braiding her thinning hair, avoidingher relection in the mirror. “Must be broken,she murmured, not meeting her mother’seyes.

“It’s not broken. Look at yoursel! Goddamiit, Marie! Look in the mirror! You look like aholocaust victim.” Ellen knew she was doingeverything wrong, but she elt so helpless.Sometimes it didn’t even eel like Marie wasthere anymore, only a shell o the rambunc-tious child she used to be. It was as i hersoul was already gone and her body wastaking its time to ollow. I only Ellen hadknown that in her eagerness to have herdaughter shed some pounds she was askingher to shed so much more.

Objects In TheMirrorKaleigh Maguire

Story O The Month

75 WORDS FROM A WOMANKASTURBA GANDHILylin Aguas

She was the woman who stood NOT BEHIND her husband, but BESIDEHIM, to share in his sorrows, triumphs and tragedies. The WOMAN, thewie who played a signiicant role in the struggle or India’s reedom andin the making o the great Mahatma Gandhi. The WOMAN who had therespect and recognition o her amily and the world or being the strengtho the great Mohandas Gandhi and the pillar o her amily.



INTERVIEWAN INTERVIEW WITH A TRUEBEAUTYElaheh Zohrevandi

”I want to be a plus-size model.” Parisa tells me as I sit down on my chair.

The way she pronounces the word “Plus-size” is so cute I barely noticethe not-so-beautiul meaning o it.

“I am proud o how I look and want to show the world you don’t have to

be size 0 to be beautiul.”

I ask Parisa i she believes that modeling can make a change. “When I

think o my role models in lie, I never think o super models or Victoria’s

Secret Arch Angels, I always think o my mother and my teachers. They

had the tiniest yet biggest impact in my lie. And I believe, as a person

on this planet, I count so they did change the world when they changed

me.” I am totally stunned by her sophisticated answer. It’s not a surprise

when I hear that she studies philosophy. “It’s my thing. It has always

been.” She says.

“In the country I live in, no woman can show up in the streets just the

way she is. You have to cover your hair and body and it has played a big

and very destructive role in women’s lie. Thinking o how strict rules

o Hijab have changed the way women are looked at, leaves me with

this big question: Who is responsible or women who became victims

o a orced belie?” I ask mysel the same question and share my naïve

thought with her. She rejects my answer with a beautiul smile. “I don’t

think so. It’s women’s ault. They pass their right like a stranger passing

another stranger in the subway.” I can’t believe I’m listening to a beauty

icon. It’s like I’m listening to a university lecture.

I ask her i I can ask a personal question. “While asking a public igure, no

question is personal.”

“What is the thing that makes you eel beautiul?”

“Being in my own skin, being mysel.”

Marie continued braiding her hair, humming tunelessly, and assidu-ously avoiding both the mirror and her mother. Ellen examinedher daughter’s rail, bony rame with a mixture o horror and awe. The smallest one-piece suit Ellen had been able to ind now hungloosely over Marie’s emaciated orm, the bones pronounced underthe pale skin. Ellen had initially bought the swimsuit as an incen-tive or Marie to lose weight. She had never thought in a millionyears that Marie would actually it into it, let alone be too small or

it. Now she had to buy all o Marie’s clothes in the children’s sec-tion. Marie had stopped growing taller when she had started losingweight. Ellen had read somewhere that teenagers who developthese problems oten miss critical periods or growth. Even i herdaughter survived, she may never reach the ive oot mark. But thatwould be a small price to pay. I only …

Overcome by emotion, Ellen dashed rom the bathroom, blindlyretracing her steps to the study, where she ound her sister seated inan overstued armchair. Had she overheard everything? Renée’s ace was

drawn into a pained expression. She said nothing. Ater a ew moments,

she stood silently and wrapped her arms around her younger sister, run-

ning her ingers through Ellen’s hair like she did when they were children.

Something inside Ellen broke. She collapsed into her sister’s embrace, her

tears soaking through Renée’s designer tee-shirt. Renée simply held her, and

rocked her gently as their mother had done many years earlier.

Finally, sniling loudly, Ellen pulled away, and wiped her nose with the back

o her hand, a habit she had ought hard to break in her own teenage years.

She looked into her big sister’s eyes. Renée’s expression reminded her o

their mother, the brave ace she always put on to comort her children when

they were in trouble. All o Ellen’s anger and envy melted away as Renée

spoke, “Honey, I know you like to go it alone, but it’s time to get you some

help.”

A Note To God

Eat Allahyari

WORDS FROM A WOMAN

Got a eeling again, hidden

From my roots I scream and complain

No one knows o my loneliness and pain

From god got a one-way avor

You know I’m helpless and drowned in sins and sorrows

Forgive me as I’m asking or being close

I’m aware o my own coldness

and sours

Just be the one who loves, I’ve got hopes

Saw colors and lies rom riends, lots and lots

Polish my soul and thoughts



Love LetterBEAUTY AND PUNISHMENT

Elaheh Zohrevandi

Some crimes are never deined. Here, Beauty is a crime.

The other night I was driving home and the police officer pulled me over. I was accused of driving alone at night.“You are a beautiful girl, you shouldn’t drive at night.” theofficer explained when I

objected to his reasoning. My license was confiscated.

***

I am 12 and I am taller than an average girl of my age.I was walking to French class when I was stopped by a

woman in one of the most crowded avenues of the city.She asked me why I was wearing colorful clothes. I was pushed into a van full of girls nearly my age. I was literally kidnapped. They kept me in the city prison for two nightsuntil I was released with my parents’ efforts.

I was born in a Muslim country, I haven’t even reached puberty and I can choose not to wear a scarf. What iswrong with me? Is it my fault that I am beautiful?

***

When I walk into a room full of people, I feel shameful. I don’t like the fact that I’m a girl. I don’t know if I want to

be a guy either. My shrink says I have gender issues but only god knows that I don’t want to feel beautiful. I don’t feel safe.

These are the stories I hear almost every day, teachingteenagers in Iran. I’m a biologist and thinking o the wayevolution unctions, I realize that we, humans, are theonly creatures on earth that kill something as pricelessas Beauty in someone. Who really hates beauty? We thehuman beings.

I being beautiul is a crime, i being a woman is notwhat we are meant to be, then why are we here in the

irst place?

“Beauty is a characteristic that provides an experienceo pleasure, meaning and satisaction” Wikipedia deinesbeauty. What is your deinition o this crime?

ConceptualWHEN YOU LEFTEat Allahyari

On the snow it’s let, love and doubt’s ootprint

In the winter, in the vase

The courage to y has met lie

I see that the love’s ootprint is ading away

And the ace o doubt is clearer

I know you’re dying

For a little bit o ying

Get those hands o your doubts and ear

Go, to the one, to the place where

you know you are a need

To the place where they sing

Just to make you bling

To spend all your lie as beautiul as your dreams

To let you know that passing

Every single second o my lie

Pays or the age o my love



MEMOIRS OF DORCIE(ALLI)Sinmisola Ogúnyinka

I wasn’t thinking about modesty when I walked into a ast ood restaurant in Calabar, a smile lingering on my ace. It was

Koko’s birthday, and she wanted it spent on a amily outing, so there we went with the whole amily; my husband and I, our

our kids, Koko, who was our ward temporarily (a riend’s sister, who was staying with us or the while), and Amby, our son’s

riend.

Just as soon as we parked the car, one o the cutest little Nigerian boys I’d ever seen in my lie, walked up to the car, begging

or money. He couldn’t be more than three years old. He was air, with curly hair, chubby cheeks, and the most adorable smile

on earth. He could speak broken English, but I didn’t know this at irst. The irst thing that touched my hand was a N200 note

and I gave him all. I was enchanted.

My amily had all gone into the restaurant while I attended to this little boy. He told me ‘Thank You!’ with a big smile, and ran

o to his mother who was seated under a tree nearby.

I thought I had seen the last o him. At least or the evening. No way.

I was at the door to the restaurant (by which time the amily had let me behind while I was looking or money in my bag, to

give the little boy), when he ran up to me and in very articulate broken English, asked i he could ollow me inside.

I was amused about the prospect. He was dirty. He didn’t it into the crowd inside the ast ood restaurant. It didn’t matter to

me. “Why not?” I smiled and took his dirty, sticky hand in mine.

The security at the door rowned but did little else. We walked to the counter where my husband stood, placing our order. He

looked at the boy beside me and arched his eyebrows in surprise.

“One extra plate, please,” I said.

My husband shook his head. “You never cease to amaze me. What do you want? Jollo or ried?”

I turned to my little companion. “Jollo or ried rice?”

“Fried rice,” he said.

My husband and I laughed and he asked, “Is he eating with us?” Though the question was or me, his gaze was directed at the

boy.

He shook his small head. “No.”

We took his drink order- Fanta- and while waiting or the ood to be served, I asked or his name.

“Alli.”

It was December o the year 2009. Alli and his mother visited our house on Christmas day. I didn’t know how I could remove

this woman and her son rom the street but I was going to try. He was so cute, and he didn’t deserve such a harsh reality.

His mother said they were going back to Niger or two months and then would be back. I gave her my number and made her

promise she would call me as soon as they were back in town.

My number hasn’t changed and I am still expecting that call!

Ater about six months, I started believing they would never come back. I searched every Nigerian ace I saw on the streets.

Deep down, I don’t think they went back. I think they simply relocated to another city in Nigeria. I could be wrong. But it hurts

that that little boy is gone.

OUR REAL STORY

15



Kirthi Jayakumar Elaheh Zohrevandi

KATHERINE VASqUEZ TARAZONA

Kirhti is one o

DeltaWomen’s

editorial sta

with a pretty little

heart that beats

or every moment

o lie.

16



inmisola Ogunyinka

PAOLA BRIGNETI

Sinmisola Ogúnyinka started thecharity called Dorcie in 2010 in

Calabar, in order to mobilize womento remove the Nigerian child romthe streets. This column is dedicatedto telling the tales behind some o the experiences she’s had.She now lives in Abuja with heramily.

17



Peace

Roshni Bandesha Destiny Okoh

PeaceNEHAL OSSAMA PEACE AGBOJE



KANIKA JAIN

SIMA JARRAH

GLAMOROUS PROTRAITS OF OUR STAFF



+4420 3286 6258

[email protected]

http://www.deltawomen.org/

“SEE YOUR TRUE BEAUTY AND

POWER.”Deltawomen is a non-proft (NGO) organization, dedicated

to impacting the lives o the Delta state women worldwide.

Deltawomen is committed to empowering women,

strengthening amilies and transorming their communities

in the process.

EFFAT ALLAHYARI

GLAMOROUS PROTRAITS OF OUR STAFF





PHOTOGRAPHY

eauty In Thingsat Allahyari



Beauty o LeavingEat Allahyari

PHOTOGRAPHY

23



Beauty o The NightEat Allahyari

PHOTOGRAPHY



Story Anthology

She Carries A PastDeserving Respect

(Part 2)Elaheh Zohrevandi

I don’t get used to things, nothing really last orever but who sayswe don’t have exceptions. I got addicted to going to cemetery.

Every time I stepped oot in the graveyard, I’d eel like I was a brandnew person. I was the companion o a princess.

Sometimes I’d stay ar and watch the people coming in with lowersbut nobody would visit my princess. The only time that I couldn’tgo to Delshad’s grave was weekends. I had to come up with a newplan. I had to see this mysterious visitor.

It was Valentines Day, one rainy aternoon. It’s sad when you don’thave someone to give you Teddy bears and love notes or valentinebut it’s more depressing when you don’t eel like having a boyriendand preer going to cemetery.

I walked in the rain and listened to Take that’s Patience. It’s my avor-ite rainy day song. Walking in, passing the graves, I saw a man in ablack suit and on his knees. From the shaking shoulders that werestill strong like an athlete’s shoulders I realized he was crying. Whowas he? Her son? Her husband? Her brother?

Ater all these years, her loss still makes him cry! He must have beena lover!

I didn’t move, didn’t even get closer to the scene. I wasn’t araid, Iwas jealous. I didn’t want to ace the truth, couldn’t really deal with

the possibility o him being my princess’s love or husband. I watcheduntil he inally gave up crying. I then let.

Days would pass and I would show up every time I was ree ordidn’t eel like sitting at a lecture. I can’t really concentrate wellwhen my mind is preoccupied with something. It must have beenADD or something. The only thing I could think o was the mysteri-ous princess. Why do I eel a real connection with such an existence?No one bounds to a dead woman but I elt complete and alivethinking o her. Growing up, I always had this emptiness inside eel-ing I didn’t belong to anyone. Whenever I was illing a orm I wouldalways pause at the gender question and think i I was really emale.Everything had always been under question when it came to iden-tity. But now I know what I’m designed or.

“Is that you again? Do you have someone buried here?” the ladywith golden rings asked. I had allen asleep reading the New Yorker.What a pleasant way o being woken up! Such delicate voice wouldgive lie to any dead body and it really lited me up. “Oh, ma’am! Iwas just reading something.”

“Shall I ask you something?”

“Please!”

“Did you know my mom?”

I roze! Delshad was her mother. I should have known. These aristo-cratic ingers must have been inherited rom a princess. “I wish I did.”I had my mask o politeness on.

“Why do I eel like I know you then?” she began looking or some-thing in her hand bag. It was a designer. I didn’t know the brand.I don’t have a good relationship with ashion but I’m sure she wasa pro. With that body o her, you must have had good tailors anddesigners to shine like a super model. When you are chubby, youdon’t get to wear everything that is been designed or skinny girls.

“Well, I hang around here much oten.” I mumbled.

“Hanging around here? For the un o it? Really?”

“I’m a writer. It’s my hobby, hanging around watching people andlistening to random conversations. It’s been weeks I’m coming here. Ihave a strong eeling or this lady.”

A teardrop ell on her coat. She closed her eyes and cried harder.

“Did I upset you? I didn’t mean to.” I touched her strong shoulders.

“I’m ine. I just believe that you are the one who destiny has senther.”

“Me?”

“My mother had gone through lots o Hardships, she raised 8 kids.Love broke her big heart. She would always tell me that she wishedshe had someone write the story o her lie. Maybe it’s her will thatkeeps you here.”

I am not a real believer but who doesn’t like to be chosen or a bigthing? “She carried a past deserving respect, that’s what has beencarved on her grave stone.”

“She was a about sacriice. She worked like a man, raised her kids allby hersel. She deinitely deserves respect. I have written the poemscarved on the grave. She was the love o my lie.” she smiled.

“Was she as cheerul and un as her name oers? Delshad, a cheer-

ul heart!”

“Wow! You impressed me! Her mom let her alone as a little kid. Shegrew up having no parents. Never had a chance to be happy hersel but she always made others happy.”

What about her last name? I like the combination o the words thatmake up her name. What role does Porgou really play on her lie?”

She was never an extrovert. She was helpul but never conined inanyone. That’s how I’m trying to be, a private person but it’s diicultto be someone like my mother.”

“Do you have a picture o her? I’m dying to see this princess.”

“Princess?” another smile. She looked into her handbag and instantlyound the requested picture.

“You look just like her. I coness I’m amazed by the resemblance,hands o a princess.”

“Yeah, my grandather got married to a Russian girl. I’m biracial.

Despite a wealthy lie, she experienced poverty at early age. She wasalmost 15 when she got married.”

Another “child bride” I think. Iran is an exhibition o child brides andmy princess is one o the many.



Story AnthologyWhy was she so interested in her lie story being written?

“So much betrayal she aced in lie. She tried to keep everyonehappy but she didn’t get any love in return. She stuck to her kidstrying to raise them as good as possible.”

“What about your ather then?”

“He’s still alive.” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Did they love each other?” I knew the answer.

“Delshad loved him like mad but my ather let her or anotherwoman.”

She stopped right there. But I didn’t give up.

“Did Delshad go or another marriage?” I knew the answer to thistoo.

“Well she had already had a ailed marriage. It’s a long story.”

“Shall I hear it? I love stories, especially long ones.”



Contents

Editor: Elaheh Zohrevandi

Production Coordinator: Elsie Reed

Designer: Elaheh Zohrevandi

Proofing: Kirthi Gita Jayakumar, Aanchal Kumar

Photographer: Effat Allahyari

Information is correct at press time.

Check http://deltawomen.blogspot.com/ for updates.

DeltaWomen is published monthly by the DeltaWomen

EDITOR’S NOTE

BEAUTY, IS IT MINE?!

It’s all said but not everything is really

done when it comes to beauty and

women. We have all seen Beauty and

The Beast, Cindrella and we have all

discovered the beauty in the Beast and

Cinderella. But which one has always

been beautiul to you?

Let me put it this way, Who was the

beautiul person you irst saw when

you opened your eyes to this world?

Yes, Mama!

It was not her ace that got you, it was

THE LOVE she gave you.

I want to dedicate this issue to each

and every mother on earth who shared

the beautiul love to a child.

As Helen Keller once claimed, The best

and most beautiul things in the world

cannot be seen or even touched. They

must be elt with the heart.Beauty, Please be mine.

Elaheh Zohrevandi - Editor

NEW TO DELTAWOMEN

Special Announcement

DeltaWomen currently accepts sub-

missions rom all over the world.

I you ever eel like you’ve got some-

thing to say about women, the world around them

and the world within, just drop us a line and we’ll

eature you in. Check deltawomen.blogspot.com

3 The Beauty o Speaking Up (Paola Bri-gneti)


6 Feat (Kirthi Jayakumar)

7 Beauty (Eleanor Bennett)

8 Standards o Beauty In the Media (SimaJarrah)

8 Glamorous Poems

9 Words From A Man (Hadi Barazandeh)

9 Beauty Advice (Christy Lynch)

10 A Personal Note On Beauty (KatherineVasquez Tarazona)


12 Objects In The Mirror (Kaleigh Maguire)

12 75 Words From A Woman (Lylin Aguas)

13 An Interview With A True Beauty (ElahehZohrevandi)

13 Words From A Woman (Eat Allahyari)

14 When You Let (Eat Allahyari)

14 Beauty And Punishment (Elaheh Zohre-vandi)

15 Memoirs O Dorcie (Sinmisola Ogúny-inka)

16 Glamorous Portraits o Our Sta

21 Photography

25 She Carries A Past Deserving Respect(Part 2) (Elaheh Zohrevandi)

Documents

Delta Women February Issue Beauty