Born to Be Anything:
Breaking the Chains of Judgment
We are all born with red blood and one heart—unless, of course, some of us have blue blood and two hearts (looking at you, mystery beings from another dimension). But beyond biology, what truly defines us? Is it gender? Titles? Expectations? Or is it the courage to embrace who we are, unapologetically?
If a woman wants to be a biker, why not? If a man wants to be a chef, why not? Somewhere along the way, society handed us unwritten rules about who should do what. But let’s be real—those rules are outdated, crumbling, and frankly, irrelevant.
Yet, here we are, quick to judge those who dare to step beyond the invisible lines. Someone rides a roaring motorcycle, someone opens a bakery, someone pursues a dream that doesn’t “fit”—and instead of cheering them on, we hesitate, whisper, critique. Why? Because deep down, it’s easier to judge than to take that same leap ourselves.
But imagine a world where we celebrate each other instead of tearing one another down. Where the whispers aren’t of doubt or ridicule, but of admiration: Imagine rumors spreading not as gossip, but as stories of triumph and resilience.
- “Did you see what she built?
- “Did you hear what he accomplished?”
Imagine rumors spreading not as gossip, but as stories of triumph and resilience.
So here’s the real question—does anyone remember how to be just human? Or have we traded authenticity for the glitz and glamour, the roles we’re expected to play, the comfort of staying within the lines?
Maybe it’s time to rewrite the script. To be bold. To be fearless. To live fully, not by expectation, but by choice.
Born to Be Anything
They told her roads were meant for cars,
Not thunder roaring from handlebars.
They told him fire belongs in war,
Not gentle hands kneading dough once more.Yet hearts beat fierce, a rhythm untamed,
Dreams ignited, never ashamed.
No mold can hold what dares to rise,
No whisper dims relentless skies.So here we stand, unchained, unbowed,
With red blood, one heart, fierce and proud.
Judgment fades, like echoes past,
And courage speaks—it will outlast.
By Naazi Morad
