A MAGAZINE FOR WOMEN ALL AROUND THE WORLD

February 2012 Volume 2 . Issue 3

DeltaWOmen

BEAUTY

PLUS: The Beauty of Speaking Up A Personal Note On Beauty Glamorous Portraits of DeltaWomen Staff Original Photographs Glamorous Poems Stories on Beauty And More!

Contents
3 The Beauty of Speaking Up (Paola Brigneti) 5 Women Through The Eyes of A Woman (Kirthi Jayakumar) 6 Feat (Kirthi Jayakumar) 7 Beauty (Eleanor Bennett) 8 Standards of Beauty In the Media (Sima Jarrah) 8 Glamorous Poems 9 Words From A Man (Hadi Barazandeh) 9 Beauty Advice (Christy Lynch) 10 A Personal Note On Beauty (Katherine Vasquez Tarazona) 11 Women Through The Eyes of 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 (Elaheh Zohrevandi) 13 Words From A Woman (Effat Allahyari) 14 When You Left (Effat Allahyari) 14 Beauty And Punishment (Elaheh Zohrevandi) 15 Memoirs Of Dorcie (Sinmisola Ognyinka) 16 Glamorous Portraits of Our Staff 21 Photography 25 She Carries A Past Deserving Respect (Part 2) (Elaheh Zohrevandi)

EDITORS NOTE
BEAUTY, IS IT MINE?! Its 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 beautiful to you? Let me put it this way, Who was the beautiful person you first saw when you opened your eyes to this world? Yes, Mama! It was not her face 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 beautiful love to a child. As Helen Keller once claimed, The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart. Beauty, Please be mine. Elaheh Zohrevandi - Editor

NEW TO DELTAWOMEN

Special Announcement
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 4PW London, United Kingdom. Signed articles do not necessarily reflect the official company policy. 2012 DeltaWomen. All rights reserved. Reproduction in part or 2 whole without permission is prohibited.

DeltaWomen currently accepts submissions from all over the world. If you ever feel like youve got something to say about women, the world around them and the world within, just drop us a line and well feature you in. Check deltawomen.blogspot. com for submission Guidelines.

Article of The Month

The Beauty of Speaking Up
Paola Brigneti
However, as Audrey Hepburn, herself a truly beautiful woman, once said: The beauty of a woman is not in the facial mode but the true beauty in a woman is reflected in her soul. It is the caring that she lovingly gives the passion that she shows. We seldom see this completebeauty-package marketed by those in charge of setting societal norms and expectations.Sometimes it feels like the emphasis on inner beauty is sacrificed by the pressing need to sell the importance of being beautiful on the outside. This lack of sources of inspiration is not actually a situation where there is a lack of them. In fact, when I think about beauty in terms of strength, dedication, and soulfulness, I immediately think of one woman: WarisDirie, supermodel, female genital mutilation survivor, and United Nations Special Ambassador for the Elimination of Female Genital Mutilation. WarisDirie was born in the Somali desert, near the Ethiopian border in 1965. Her family was nomadic and traditional. When Waris turned five, she was forced to undergo the cruel procedure known as female genital mutilation (FGM) or female genital cutting (FGC). For those who are not familiar with this procedure, FGM involves intentionally altering and injuring female genital organs for non-medical reasons. FGM consists of the partial or total removal of the external female genitalia. This procedure has no health benefits for the over 100 to 140 million girls and women worldwide who are currently living with the consequences derived from it. In reality, FGM has the potential only toharm girls and women. It involves removing and damaging healthy and normal female genital tissue, and it interferes with the natural functions of girls and womens bodies. To make matters worse, the procedure is usually carried out by untrained individuals who do not use painkillers or sterilized equipment, which increases the risk for complications such as pain, shock, tetanus or other bacterial infections, urine retention, open sores and other injuries to the genital region. The long-term consequences of FGM range from having recurrent bladder and urinary tract infections to an increased risk of childbirth complications and the death of newborns. Every year, hundreds of girls and women die as a result of FGM.

Needless to say, there is nothing beautiful about this procedure. In fact, undergoing such a terrible practice can only jeopardize the lives of those who could otherwise become beautiful women. Sadly, this horrible tradition is still practiced in several countries around the world. The United Nations estimates that approximately eight thousand girls worldwide are forced to undergo FGM every day. In a demonstration of extraordinary strength and bravery, WarisDirie did not let this heinous actstop her from being beautiful, either inside or outside. When she turned thirteen she was forced into another horrendous traditional practice: child marriage. Unwilling to carry on with her forced union to a much older man, Waris fled her homeland.One night, before the marriage took place, she left her house. Without any food or water, she ran barefoot for days across the desert. Weeks passed before she reached Mogadishu, the capital of Somalia. There she reached out to family and as a result of a series of fateful events, she made her way to London, England to work as a maid for her uncle who was an Ambassador. Life in London was not easy for a young Somali girl who could not speak English and who had never received any kind of education. However, she stayed positive and allowed her inner beauty to always shine. After she escaped her home in Somalia, she had experienced a close encounter in which she nearly was eaten by a lion. Having survived such an ill-fated encounter convinced her that she could overcome any obstacles she would ever face in her life. Due to this inner strength and self-conviction, she was able to make a living well after her uncle returned to Somalia (he respected her desire to stay in 3

Beauty is indeed in the eye of the beholder. Even though society tries to impose some standards of 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 different form and has a different meaning. We should not be forced to buy into a onesize-fits-all beauty concept simply because it is what society demands. After all, who is better at deciding what appeals to people if not people themselves? When we hear the word beauty, some of us think of moments in which we were happy. Beauty can definitely refer to moments, and not just objects. For others, beauty might evoke images of gorgeous women strolling down a catwalk wearing the latest fashion. This last one is certainly one of the most pushed images of beauty: in order to be beautiful, women need to look like models.

Article of The Month

London by herself). It was after her uncles departure that she entered the modeling world and became famous. Afterhavingdonned the pages of world-famous magazines like Elle, Vogue and Marie Claire, and having also become a Bondgirl,Waris had certainly come a long way from the dreadful day when her own mother sat her on a hot rock in the desert to be circumcised by a strange woman. However, for many years, the pain was as alive as it had been on the day the cutting had happened (at some point she had corrective surgery). Her physical pain manifested during urination, as it took her up to ten minutes to do what most women do in less than one. For one week of the month, during menstruation, she would suffer from indescribable pain as well. Her mind was also tormented by the event. She resented that she would never experience any sexual pleasure in her life. Most importantly, she was haunted by the fact that many girls in Africa continued to become victims of FGM every day. Almost twenty years after leaving Somalia, WarisDirie was considered to be one of the most beautiful women in Africa and the world. Her gorgeous face, which got the attention of Mike Goss, the photographer who discovered her when she was just a young girl, became an example of impeccable beauty and perfection. However, deep inside, Waris was still fighting an internal battle.During an interview with Marie Claire magazine in 1997, she armed herself with courage and shared her not-sobeautiful story with the world. We can all agree that such selfless actions and her willingness to expose her innermost secret made Waris even more beautiful than she already was. The same year her interview with Marie Claire came out, Waris was invited to join the United Nations Population Fund in their fight to stop FGM. Currently, Waris is a United Nations Special Ambassador for the Elimination of FGM. She is one of the main people fighting FGM around the world. At age 47, she continues to be an example of beauty for her stunning physical features. However, she has become a lot more than just a pretty face. She is now an example of courage and perseverance. Her fight against FGM did not stop after her interview, but instead started that day and has gained momentum ever since. In 2002, Waris founded the WarisDirie Foundation to support her work as an international advocate against FGM. In 2010, the foundation was renamed Desert Flower Foundation. Currently,Warisspeaks alongside Secretaries of State, national leaders, Nobel Prize-winners, and international stars to raise awareness about FGM in an attempt to put an end to this inhumane practice. She is fighting to keep all girls and women beautiful by keeping their natural physical state unaltered. She celebrates women the way they are and she does it by using her life as an example of what can be accomplished. She is, in every way, a role model for what true beauty is all about.

Women Through The Eyes of A Woman

Grace
Kirthi Jayakumar

GLAMOROUS STORY
Feat
Kirthi Gita Jayakumar
It was dark, as black as the night that lives in the eyes of one deprived of sight. I hadnt any idea where the darkness began, where it ended. Or if my eyes were open, or if they were closed with a soft satin curtain that bled black. I felt I was made of eyes, just a pair, and nothing else. A soft note sounded somewhere in the distance, and then another, and another. Slowly, little beads of sound meandered into droplets, and the tune fanned out as the tiny droplets broke into music that poured in from somewhere. A thin mist formed before my eyes, slowly, but stubbornly inching its way around the darkness. It swirled before me, frothing as it danced in waves, until the dense black before me was sheathed in a denser tunic of white, a mist so deep that my eyes drowned in them. Suddenly, a burst of light shot through the mist, dispelling the sheath into oblivion. As the foggy curtain whirled out of my sight, I watched a tiny form, cocooned in a tiny curve, with its head cradled in its arms, lying supine like a peaceful child, while dressed nattily in the garb of a ballerina. I watched it unfold, draw itself up. A stratesque girl stood before me, her form immaculate, posture upright, stance overpowering. The music flowed like a meandering river, dancing in my ears like a frenzied fairy. She strutted on her toes, poised, querulous and ponderous at the same time, as she wore her effrontery with brazen candour. I saw her feet titter on the spot. Testing the waters it seemed. Standing arabesque, her light form teeteered on one leg, while her other leg extended straight behind her body, her stretched form singing paeans of ambition. And then suddenly, an arriere, One step back. Swinging forwards with a gentle surging spring, the movements began to evolve into an Allegro, speedy, energized and fierce. With aquiline overtones and steeped in aplomb, she flew into a journey of aggrandizement, syncopating her performance with a paroxysm of grace and charm. Caution flew to the winds, she danced with gay abandon. Her steps fringed the music with magic, as it swung upwards, meandering into a bubbling soliloquy, building up to a crescendo. Her feet swung into a graceful Pas de Chat, cat-like, as she launched herself from a gentle Plie, clambering onto the air in swift little movements. As though she had a secret pact with the air, to hold her for the little moments that she seemed to hover, she confidently burst into bloom, showing her proclivity towards defying gravity. And then with a light flick of her feet, she
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played with the air through a series of fondus, swinging about mirthfully, like a child. She stepped forwards with an Avant, and piroutted in the air, landing gently on her feet, as she rushed into a dizzying fouette rond de jamb en tournant, turning delicately on one leg, gracefully kicking the other. The music bubbled and frothed, building slowly with little waves. The crescendo wept through, and she threw herself into a graceful arc, a magnificent glissade, and glided into a flamboyant grand jete, jumping in the air, with a split bathed in finesse. Bubbles of light erupted, bathing her in a divine glow. She glistened in the pure light, exuding joy, spilling happiness, through a graceful set of hortensia, as she jumped up delicately, pulling both legs into passe, placing one foot placed near the other knee. The music bubbled out, as the notes grew softer, and softer. With one last grand jete, the jump, and hovered in the air. With a gently swift move, she landed on feet with a perfect pique. For the first time, I saw her face. As the music bowed out, growing softer and softer, the light grew dim as the mist came back, thicker. Through the misty curtain I looked in wonder at the dancers face.

I stared back at my own face, the face of the dancer. And then it grew black, blacker than the deep chasm I felt inside. Suddenly, someone was calling my name. I wasnt a pair of eyes anymore, now. I had my body back. I heard voices. My eyelids felt like lead, my tongue felt glued to the roof of my mouth. I remembered vaguely feeling something in my chest before, 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 condition, the Emery-Dreifuss Muscular Dystrophy affects the Heart- and this is just one of these times. Myocardial infarctions can occur 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 often. But theres nothing in our hands that can stop them. These heart problems stem from abnormalities of the electrical signals that control the heartbeat and abnormal heart rhythms. We could have treated these abnormalities if she came in earlier, but now they have led to a bradycardia, an unusually slow heartbeat. Is that it? We just stand and

BEAUTY

watch? Watch her dreams walk out on her while she remains tied to the wheelchair? She wants to dance, Doctor. Do you have any idea how it feels to see that face crumple everytime those feet itch to move? Im sorry, Sir. But this is about all medicine can do. With her condition, she cant do much, leave alone dance. And I feel sorry for 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 didnt. I just danced, I just did. And I was beautiful.

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.

MEDIA
Standards of Beauty In the Media
Sima Jarrah
Women from a very young age are constantly being exposed to images of beauty through the media. They are unconsciously trained to want to look perfect. For instance, Barbie dolls which are what every little girl wants represent features of a superwoman and perfect figure, although studies have shown that proportions of this doll if it were a real life women would be very unhealthy, Hence, girls grow up wanting to look this perfect and beautiful, meanwhile the media is taking advantage of people to sell products of the market. What are the perfect standards of beauty and who sets these standards? How does the media portray women and how much of what they portray is real? There is immense pressure on teenagers these days to fit certain images projected by the media. Beauty standards have been changing across time and are different across cultures.Not until the 1960s onwards that the image of full figured curvy women which was considered beautiful started to shift to a slimmer body figure. Merilyn Monroe was considered a sex symbol in the 60s, if she lived today would she have had to feel the pressure of losing weight?! Advertisement in the media is an industry that earns more than 100 billion dollars every year. Irrespective of whether we intend to or not, we are affected by it. The media can often be a powerful force that can change perceptions and values. This tool reshapes our self worth and self image by selling concepts that tell us what to eat, how to dress and what size we should be by constantly bombarding us with images of beautiful people with perfect measurements. Beauty for us is what we see on TV and in magazines, slim figures, perfect healthy hair and beautiful flawless complexion. We automatically create a notion of what we should look like and feel the pressure to measure up. In reality, not only this puts immense strain on people receiving these images, but also on the very same women who are in these images. In fact,these images are airbrushed and readjusted to create a Frankenstein 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 of building their self worth and personality. Therefore, they are receiving these images and concepts and building their personality accordingly. Some studies showed that girls begin watching their weight as early as when they are 7 years old. What teenagers are learning from these advertisements is that a girl should always be slim, pretty and flawless. They teach girls that beautiful and thin can bring happiness, acceptance and success. There is big pressure to conform and often people find it difficult to resist. However, studies have shown that the exposure to such idealistic portrayals have a negative effect and can increase a persons low self esteem and sometimes depression. It is important for teenagers to understand that while there are women, models and celebrities in the media who are beautiful each in their own way, on TV or in an ad they are transformed starting with hours of makeup and preparation to light effects and finally their photos getting airbrushed. Even in movies, lighting and color are always edited and enhanced after filming. Fortunately, more pressure is being put on the media to change these perceptions.There are many celebrities who are raising awareness concerning this issue, celebrities who are more curvy, but still beautiful, showing teenage girls that beautiful is not necessary slim and white, it is being natural and appreciating your special features that you were born with.

GLAMOROUS POEM

Valentina Cano is a student of classical singing who spends whatever free time either writing or reading. Her works have appeared in Exercise Bowler, Theory Train, Cartier Street Press, Berg Gasse 19, Precious Metals, A Handful of Dust, The Scarlet Sound, The Adroit Journal, Welcome to Wherever, The Corner Club Press, Death Rattle, Subliminal Interiors, Generations Literary Journal, Super Poetry Highway and many more.

Apocalyptic Morning
Valentina Cano
She studied the skies, Her eyes a compass of light. She opened her mouth, Counting clouds, Counting birds flying past In rumbles of feathers. It all meant something. She knew. Every one of those bird eyes Held a piece of 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 of skies.

Extremities of Light
Valentina Cano
The man glanced across the jeweled room. He felt trapped inside its wings, sunlight streaming in through cathedrals of smoke and painted glass. She sat in the back, next to the kid with the sun-spun hair. Her eyes dipped down, her face followed. A moon bathed in guilt.

The man clenched a hand, a suffocation of planets, and turned to the river of light before him.

WORDS FROM A MAN BEAUTY ADVICE

The Ultimate Beauty
Hadi Barazandeh
Everything can be beautiful or even more beautiful. Most of the times, beauty depends on our own view. There is always a point at which when you look at, you find things more beautiful so we may better wash our eyes to see clearer. Try to imagine this: The day that in acting class I was told to imagine the only thing that could make me cry, I imagined him. It turned into the most beautiful beauty... Imagine you love someone. You do everything you believe is good for that someone. You wish for everything that makes an improvement in that persons life. You love that person. The amazing part is that you dont want anything in return. You want nothing in exchange to all that help and love. Every time that person falls you grab their hand. You are always thinking about that person and are always by their side. Sometimes you offer a helping hand but the person rejects you and you never get upset. You smile instead... And it hurts the most, the fact that you see that the person you did everything for is going the wrong way or hurting their own 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 self the most. You dont even go to say that you said so just not to make that person sad. You even try to help but you get rejected again... How far can a broken heart go? Now you have no way except punishing the only person you ever loved, cared about and stood by. The person you were in love with... How difficult and heartbreaking it is, whatever God does for us; for every single one of us, for we humans who most of the times show that we dont deserve what were given. We dont use the given things properly and live in a wrong way... And we make God, this existence that has proved that we have been loved like a lover, punish us. Its beautiful, the whole story of the reason why we are here in this world. I wish there would come a day that everyone looks at the world from the most beautiful point of view and the world fills with beauty, not the things that make the world dark and ugly.

Revamp Your Wardrobe

Christy Lynch
Many of us have often peered into the closet and thought: I have nothing 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. Its 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 comfortable 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! Its all about how you coordinate your outfits. Accessorize: Sometimes a simple outfit can look completely different 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 comfortable, but not over-heated. Find some lighter shoes or sandals to wear and a walking shoe for daily outings. Pick light colors for your new clothes items. Colors such as pinks, greens and blues are a really nice touch. Think about shades of these colors that complement your skin tone and bring out your inner glow.

Fast Facts:
Check the quality (fabric, stitching, etc.) and the washing instructions of any piece of clothing you buy. Clothes are emotionally charged. Consider having someone with you to guide you when you go shopping.

Moving Words
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 of the six muscles surrounding the eyes. Thus, Strabismus could be a muscular problem or a neurological one. Its treatment is suggested due the potential loss of vision on the eye(s) affected 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 different types of strabismus. Mine was congenital, since it was developed in my early infancy, unilateral (just on my left eye), and esotropic, referring to the direction of the eye (inwards in my case). My pediatrician advised my parents to wait and see if I could correct it by myself. By age six, I first experienced a surgery on the eye muscle and earned a pair of eye glasses (I also have astigmatism). I went through a second intervention when I was 11 years old, after suffering a comeback of the condition, something that is to be expected in some cases. Lastly, my third and final eye-operation occurred when I was 14. Anyone who had met me after this has never noticed I suffered from strabismus before. Actually, I always refer this to whoever is my optometrist at the time, just in case. They usually smile, look further inside to conclude with a sentence similar to this: oh, I see. Its almost imperceptible. Sigh. I was pretty much unaware of my condition up until I was five. People say that kids are cruel when it comes to pointing out differences. I do not agree. Children are straight forward and curious; adults, on the other hand, are responsible of getting the facts right for their kids. If they fail to do it, myths and names are likely to take place. As a toddler, I lived in the protected shield of family. At kinder school we werent many and I am guessing my teachers were cautious about this condition. Then everything changed. At five, my parents initiated the research on primary schools. Most principals were concerned by my slight difference, calling it a disability, stating that kids could be too cruel with me and how this would introduce me to some social problems and even psychological scars. Definitely, this sort of argument rushed me into the O.R. about when I was starting my primary education. As my first intervention was a success, I only went through the same issues that any other child with glasses would have. Therefore, names as geek, four-eyes, and many others came along. Those psychological problems that were thoroughly explained to my parents presented anyway due to my pragmatic ornament above my nose. As strabismus returned, its collateral damages appeared too. Genetically, I was timid, and certainly the combination of rough comments and scared looks did not help to build a strong selfesteem. Therefore, I wasnt comfortable in either large or short groups. Despite this all, my life changed as I grew up. I was involved with several extracurricular activities (sports and arts, for the most part). I frequented diverse groups of people with new interest and no one seemed to specially care about any of my vision conditions. Then, as a teenager, I left the cocoon and built on confident. I was rid of the strabismus but most importantly, I learned to value myself on standards other than beauty or other stereotypes. My doctor suggested an eye intervention to correct my astigmatism about when I was fifteen. I said thanks but no, thanks. I adore wearing glasses, without them I would not be complete. More of a reminder of what I went through as a child, they are a note on my imperfect-perfect me. I am sure I am not as cute or pretty as I used to be as a teen, yet I find me beautiful as I never did before. I have learned to admire my flaws and asymmetries. My eyes are a very important element of my character, since I usually speak with them more than words. I still do not appreciate when others cross their eyes for fun because the susceptibility has not swept away. Though, it would be silly of me to say that it bothers me too much. Would my life have been any different without the surgeries? Yes, no doubt. I met someone with a severe case of strabismus at law school. She was older than the rest of us and very quiet. Some of my classmates made fun of her at times and I felt frustrated. It could be me, you know? - I usually pointed out. And they stopped. Daily, we find several examples of strength and inspiration. Yet, we fail to embrace the small cases that are in our sight. For instance, when a friend tells us that her/his son or daughter has Down syndrome, our natural response is sympathy instead of empower their kids and welcome them to a society that is still fighting to embrace diversity. Beauty is, to one extent, a preconceived vision of certain features that are easy accepted by majorities. In other words, for the most part, we define beauty as a mind-set. Do we even welcome other possibilities? I am certain that some of 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 DuShanes story . She suffers from Pfeiffer Syndrome which has made her life very difficult. Usually, people with this disorder do not complete adolescence. She is 18 years old and with one single post on her blog, she has redefined society versus beauty. I have copied a screenshot of her post because of what she states: you are beautiful, even if you dont realize it, you are. Everyone is. I concur with this, everyone is beautiful indeed.

Katherine Vsquez Tarazona

A PERSONAL NOTE ON BEAUTY

I was born 29 years ago on a Friday afternoon, after 20+ hours of labor. The first of three siblings, I was extremely healthy. Nonetheless, within my first year of life I developed

Member-

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Women Through The Eyes of A Woman

KIRTHI JAYAKUMAR

I Love Myself
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Kirthi Jayakumar

Story Of The Month

Objects In The Mirror
Kaleigh Maguire
Its such a beautiful day. Ellen sighed as she regarded her slim, beautiful sister with no small measure of envy. Rene was reclining comfortably against the porch railing of her newly acquired McMansion. What had she done to deserve all of this, Ellen wondered. Unlike Ellen, Rene didnt even have a college degree. All she had ever done was entice a handsome rich guy to marry her. It just didnt seem fair. Should we have the girls put on their swimsuits? Rene offered in that crisp tone she had adopted when she began her meteoric rise in social stature, a tone that reeked of money and good luck. Ellen didnt want anyone not even Rene to see her daughter Marie in a bathing suit but there was no way around it. She had finally run out of excuses. At least it would only be in Renes backyard swimming pool and not at the beach like last year when Ellen had been mortified by the way Maries puppy fat had bulged out from her oversized swimsuit. But however embarrassing that had been, this year would be so much worse. After Rene herded her own girls into their bedrooms, Ellen asked where she and Marie should change. She hadnt wanted Marie to change with Renes girls. The less they saw of her the better. Ill change in the study with you, mom. Marie piped up, her tone bright in stark contrast to the rings under her pale eyes, We fatties need to stick together. When they were alone in the study, tears welled in Ellens eyes as she watched Marie struggle out of her baggy clothes. Something wrong, mom? How can you ask me that? Ellens voice was soft, her limps trembling. Cmon mom. Dont start that body image stuff again. Ellen turned away from her daughter and reached for a tissue from the box on Renes desk. Mom, please dont cry. Im just a little overweight is all. Marie touched her mothers wrist tentatively, her cold fingertips chilling Ellen to the bone. Deep down Ellen knew this was all her fault. Her husbands unceremonious departure, Maries condition. All of it. And there wasnt a damn thing she could do about it. In her desire to rival Renes achievements big house, successful husband, and beautiful daughter she had lost everything, or 12 maybe she just chose the wrong man. Why did stupid Rene have to have all the luck? In a fit of frustration, Ellen grasped Maries shoulders and marched her to the guest bathroom. Forcing her daughter to face the mirror, Ellen met her reflected gaze, a sharp pain stabbing at her when she caught sight of Maries listless expression, Just look at yourself! Im sorry, mom. I know I need to lose some weight. With an aggravated breath, Ellen kicked the bathroom scales out from under the counter and pushed her daughter roughly on to them. Mom! What are you doing? Lose some weight? Ellens voice was becoming loud, hysterical, Tell me what you weigh. Marie clutched at Ellens hands as she regarded the display, Its not how it looks. Youre holding some of my weight. Ellen shook her daughters hands free, taking a step back, Look again. Marie leapt from the scale and began obsessively braiding her thinning hair, avoiding her reflection in the mirror. Must be broken, she murmured, not meeting her mothers eyes. Its not broken. Look at yourself! Goddamit it, Marie! Look in the mirror! You look like a holocaust victim. Ellen knew she was doing everything wrong, but she felt so helpless. Sometimes it didnt even feel like Marie was there anymore, only a shell of the rambunctious child she used to be. It was as if her soul was already gone and her body was taking its time to follow. If only Ellen had known that in her eagerness to have her daughter shed some pounds she was asking her to shed so much more.

75 WORDS FROM A WOMAN

Lylin Aguas

KASTURBA GANDHI

She was the woman who stood NOT BEHIND her husband, but BESIDE HIM, to share in his sorrows, triumphs and tragedies. The WOMAN, the wife who played a significant role in the struggle for Indias freedom and in the making of the great Mahatma Gandhi. The WOMAN who had the respect and recognition of her family and the world for being the strength of the great Mohandas Gandhi and the pillar of her family.

INTERVIEW
Marie continued braiding her hair, humming tunelessly, and assiduously avoiding both the mirror and her mother. Ellen examined her daughters frail, bony frame with a mixture of horror and awe. The smallest one-piece suit Ellen had been able to find now hung loosely over Maries emaciated form, the bones pronounced under the pale skin. Ellen had initially bought the swimsuit as an incentive for Marie to lose weight. She had never thought in a million years that Marie would actually fit into it, let alone be too small for it. Now she had to buy all of Maries clothes in the childrens section. Marie had stopped growing taller when she had started losing weight. Ellen had read somewhere that teenagers who develop these problems often miss critical periods for growth. Even if her daughter survived, she may never reach the five foot mark. But that would be a small price to pay. If only Overcome by emotion, Ellen dashed from the bathroom, blindly retracing her steps to the study, where she found her sister seated in an overstuffed armchair. Had she overheard everything? Renes face was
drawn into a pained expression. She said nothing. After a few moments, she stood silently and wrapped her arms around her younger sister, running her fingers through Ellens hair like she did when they were children. Something inside Ellen broke. She collapsed into her sisters embrace, her tears soaking through Renes designer tee-shirt. Rene simply held her, and rocked her gently as their mother had done many years earlier. Finally, sniffling loudly, Ellen pulled away, and wiped her nose with the back of her hand, a habit she had fought hard to break in her own teenage years. She looked into her big sisters eyes. Renes expression reminded her of their mother, the brave face she always put on to comfort her children when they were in trouble. All of Ellens anger and envy melted away as Rene spoke, Honey, I know you like to go it alone, but its time to get you some help.

Elaheh Zohrevandi

AN INTERVIEW WITH A TRUE BEAUTY

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 notice the not-so-beautiful meaning of it. I am proud of how I look and want to show the world you dont have to be size 0 to be beautiful. I ask Parisa if she believes that modeling can make a change. When I think of my role models in life, I never think of super models or Victorias Secret Arch Angels, I always think of my mother and my teachers. They had the tiniest yet biggest impact in my life. 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. Its not a surprise when I hear that she studies philosophy. Its 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 womens life. Thinking of how strict rules of Hijab have changed the way women are looked at, leaves me with this big question: Who is responsible for women who became victims of a forced belief? I ask myself the same question and share my nave thought with her. She rejects my answer with a beautiful smile. I dont think so. Its womens fault. They pass their right like a stranger passing another stranger in the subway. I cant believe Im listening to a beauty icon. Its like Im listening to a university lecture. I ask her if I can ask a personal question. While asking a public figure, no question is personal. What is the thing that makes you feel beautiful? Being in my own skin, being myself.

WORDS FROM A WOMAN

A Note To God
Effat Allahyari
Got a feeling again, hidden From my roots I scream and complain No one knows of my loneliness and pain From god got a one-way favor You know Im helpless and drowned in sins and sorrows Forgive me as Im asking for being close Im aware of my own coldness and sours Just be the one who loves, Ive got hopes Saw colors and lies from friends, lots and lots Polish my soul and thoughts 13

Love Letter
Effat Allahyari

Conceptual
BEAUTY AND PUNISHMENT
Elaheh Zohrevandi
Some crimes are never defined. 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 shouldnt drive at night. the officer 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 nights until I was released with my parents efforts. I was born in a Muslim country, I havent even reached puberty and I can choose not to wear a scarf. What is wrong with me? Is it my fault that I am beautiful? *** When I walk into a room full of people, I feel shameful. I dont like the fact that Im a girl. I dont know if I want to be a guy either. My shrink says I have gender issues but only god knows that I dont want to feel beautiful. I dont feel safe. These are the stories I hear almost every day, teaching teenagers in Iran. Im a biologist and thinking of the way evolution functions, I realize that we, humans, are the only creatures on earth that kill something as priceless as Beauty in someone. Who really hates beauty? We the human beings. If being beautiful is a crime, if being a woman is not what we are meant to be, then why are we here in the first place? Beauty is a characteristic that provides an experience of pleasure, meaning and satisfaction Wikipedia defines beauty. What is your definition of this crime?

WHEN YOU LEFT

On the snow its left, love and doubts footprint In the winter, in the vase The courage to fly has met life I see that the loves footprint is fading away And the face of doubt is clearer I know youre dying For a little bit of flying Get those hands off your doubts and fear 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 life as beautiful as your dreams To let you know that passing Every single second of my life Pays for the age of my love

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OUR REAL STORY

MEMOIRS OF DORCIE (ALLI)
Sinmisola Ognyinka
I wasnt thinking about modesty when I walked into a fast food restaurant in Calabar, a smile lingering on my face. It was Kokos birthday, and she wanted it spent on a family outing, so there we went with the whole family; my husband and I, our four kids, Koko, who was our ward temporarily (a friends sister, who was staying with us for the while), and Amby, our sons friend. Just as soon as we parked the car, one of the cutest little Nigerian boys Id ever seen in my life, walked up to the car, begging for money. He couldnt be more than three years old. He was fair, with curly hair, chubby cheeks, and the most adorable smile on earth. He could speak broken English, but I didnt know this at first. The first thing that touched my hand was a N200 note and I gave him all. I was enchanted. My family had all gone into the restaurant while I attended to this little boy. He told me Thank You! with a big smile, and ran off to his mother who was seated under a tree nearby. I thought I had seen the last of him. At least for the evening. No way. I was at the door to the restaurant (by which time the family had left me behind while I was looking for money in my bag, to give the little boy), when he ran up to me and in very articulate broken English, asked if he could follow me inside. I was amused about the prospect. He was dirty. He didnt fit into the crowd inside the fast food restaurant. It didnt matter to me. Why not? I smiled and took his dirty, sticky hand in mine. The security at the door frowned 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? Jollof or fried? I turned to my little companion. Jollof or fried rice? Fried rice, he said. My husband and I laughed and he asked, Is he eating with us? Though the question was for me, his gaze was directed at the boy. He shook his small head. No. We took his drink order- Fanta- and while waiting for the food to be served, I asked for his name. Alli. It was December of the year 2009. Alli and his mother visited our house on Christmas day. I didnt know how I could remove this woman and her son from the street but I was going to try. He was so cute, and he didnt deserve such a harsh reality. His mother said they were going back to Niger for 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 hasnt changed and I am still expecting that call! After about six months, I started believing they would never come back. I searched every Nigerian face I saw on the streets. Deep down, I dont 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.

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Kirthi Jayakumar
Kirhti is one of DeltaWomens editorial staff with a pretty little heart that beats for every moment of life.

Elaheh Zohrevandi

KATHERINE VASqUEZ TARAZONA

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Sinmisola Ogunyinka
Sinmisola Ognyinka started the charity called Dorcie in 2010 in Calabar, in order to mobilize women to remove the Nigerian child from the streets. This column is dedicated to telling the tales behind some of the experiences shes had. She now lives in Abuja with her family.

PAOLA BRIGNETI

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Roshni Bandesha

Destiny Okoh

Peace Peace OSSAMA NEHAL

PEACE AGBOJE

GLAMOROUS PROTRAITS OF OUR STAFF KANIKA JAIN

SIMA JARRAH
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GLAMOROUS PROTRAITS OF OUR STAFF EFFAT ALLAHYARI

+4420 3286 6258 ereed@deltawomen.org http://www.deltawomen.org/

SEE YOUR TRUE BEAUTY AND POWER.

Deltawomen is a non-profit (NGO) organization, dedicated to impacting the lives of the Delta state women worldwide. Deltawomen is committed to empowering women, strengthening families and transforming their communities in the process.

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PHOTOGRAPHY
Beauty Through the Eyes of A Woman
Effat Allahyari

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PHOTOGRAPHY

Beauty In Things
Effat Allahyari

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PHOTOGRAPHY
Beauty of Leaving
Effat Allahyari

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PHOTOGRAPHY

Beauty of The Night

Effat Allahyari

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Story Anthology

She Carries A Past Deserving Respect (Part 2)

Elaheh Zohrevandi
I dont get used to things, nothing really last forever but who says we dont have exceptions. I got addicted to going to cemetery. Every time I stepped foot in the graveyard, Id feel like I was a brand new person. I was the companion of a princess. Sometimes Id stay far and watch the people coming in with flowers but nobody would visit my princess. The only time that I couldnt go to Delshads grave was weekends. I had to come up with a new plan. I had to see this mysterious visitor. It was Valentines Day, one rainy afternoon. Its sad when you dont have someone to give you Teddy bears and love notes for valentine but its more depressing when you dont feel like having a boyfriend and prefer going to cemetery. I walked in the rain and listened to Take thats Patience. Its my favorite rainy day song. Walking in, passing the graves, I saw a man in a black suit and on his knees. From the shaking shoulders that were still strong like an athletes shoulders I realized he was crying. Who was he? Her son? Her husband? Her brother? After all these years, her loss still makes him cry! He must have been a lover! I didnt move, didnt even get closer to the scene. I wasnt afraid, I was jealous. I didnt want to face the truth, couldnt really deal with the possibility of him being my princesss love or husband. I watched until he finally gave up crying. I then left. Days would pass and I would show up every time I was free or didnt feel like sitting at a lecture. I cant really concentrate well when my mind is preoccupied with something. It must have been ADD or something. The only thing I could think of was the mysterious princess. Why do I feel a real connection with such an existence? No one bounds to a dead woman but I felt complete and alive thinking of her. Growing up, I always had this emptiness inside feeling I didnt belong to anyone. Whenever I was filling a form I would always pause at the gender question and think if I was really female. Everything had always been under question when it came to identity. But now I know what Im designed for. Is that you again? Do you have someone buried here? the lady with golden rings asked. I had fallen asleep reading the New Yorker. What a pleasant way of being woken up! Such delicate voice would give life to any dead body and it really lifted me up. Oh, maam! I was just reading something. Shall I ask you something? Please! Did you know my mom? I froze! Delshad was her mother. I should have known. These aristocratic fingers must have been inherited from a princess. I wish I did. I had my mask of politeness on.

Why do I feel like I know you then? she began looking for something in her hand bag. It was a designer. I didnt know the brand. I dont have a good relationship with fashion but Im sure she was a pro. With that body of her, you must have had good tailors and designers to shine like a super model. When you are chubby, you dont get to wear everything that is been designed for skinny girls. Well, I hang around here much often. I mumbled. Hanging around here? For the fun of it? Really? Im a writer. Its my hobby, hanging around watching people and listening to random conversations. Its been weeks Im coming here. I have a strong feeling for this lady. A teardrop fell on her coat. She closed her eyes and cried harder. Did I upset you? I didnt mean to. I touched her strong shoulders. Im fine. I just believe that you are the one who destiny has sent her. Me? My mother had gone through lots of Hardships, she raised 8 kids. Love broke her big heart. She would always tell me that she wished she had someone write the story of her life. Maybe its her will that keeps you here. I am not a real believer but who doesnt like to be chosen for a big thing? She carried a past deserving respect, thats what has been carved on her grave stone. She was a about sacrifice. She worked like a man, raised her kids all by herself. She definitely deserves respect. I have written the poems carved on the grave. She was the love of my life. she smiled. Was she as cheerful and fun as her name offers? Delshad, a cheerful heart! Wow! You impressed me! Her mom left her alone as a little kid. She grew up having no parents. Never had a chance to be happy herself but she always made others happy. What about her last name? I like the combination of the words that make up her name. What role does Porgou really play on her life? She was never an extrovert. She was helpful but never confined in anyone. Thats how Im trying to be, a private person but its difficult to be someone like my mother. Do you have a picture of her? Im dying to see this princess. Princess? another smile. She looked into her handbag and instantly found the requested picture. You look just like her. I confess Im amazed by the resemblance, hands of a princess. Yeah, my grandfather got married to a Russian girl. Im biracial. Despite a wealthy life, she experienced poverty at early age. She was almost 15 when she got married. Another child bride I think. Iran is an exhibition of child brides and my princess is one of the many.

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Story Anthology
Why was she so interested in her life story being written? So much betrayal she faced in life. She tried to keep everyone happy but she didnt get any love in return. She stuck to her kids trying to raise them as good as possible. What about your father then? Hes still alive. she said, rolling her eyes. Did they love each other? I knew the answer. Delshad loved him like mad but my father left her for another woman. She stopped right there. But I didnt give up. Did Delshad go for another marriage? I knew the answer to this too. Well she had already had a failed marriage. Its a long story. Shall I hear it? I love stories, especially long ones.

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Contents
3 The Beauty of Speaking Up (Paola Brigneti) 5 Women Through The Eyes of A Woman (Kirthi Jayakumar) 6 Feat (Kirthi Jayakumar) 7 Beauty (Eleanor Bennett) 8 Standards of Beauty In the Media (Sima Jarrah) 8 Glamorous Poems 9 Words From A Man (Hadi Barazandeh) 9 Beauty Advice (Christy Lynch) 10 A Personal Note On Beauty (Katherine Vasquez Tarazona) 11 Women Through The Eyes of 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 (Elaheh Zohrevandi) 13 Words From A Woman (Effat Allahyari) 14 When You Left (Effat Allahyari) 14 Beauty And Punishment (Elaheh Zohrevandi) 15 Memoirs Of Dorcie (Sinmisola Ognyinka) 16 Glamorous Portraits of Our Staff 21 Photography 25 She Carries A Past Deserving Respect (Part 2) (Elaheh Zohrevandi)

EDITORS NOTE
BEAUTY, IS IT MINE?! Its 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 beautiful to you? Let me put it this way, Who was the beautiful person you first saw when you opened your eyes to this world? Yes, Mama! It was not her face 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 beautiful love to a child. As Helen Keller once claimed, The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart. Beauty, Please be mine. Elaheh Zohrevandi - Editor NEW TO DELTAWOMEN

Special Announcement
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 (NGO) at 2nd Floor 145-157 St John Street, EC1V 4PW London, United Kingdom. Signed articles do not necessarily reflect the official company policy. 2012 DeltaWomen. All rights reserved. Reproduction in part or 27 whole without permission is prohibited.

DeltaWomen currently accepts submissions from all over the world. If you ever feel like youve got something to say about women, the world around them and the world within, just drop us a line and well feature you in. Check deltawomen.blogspot.com for submission Guidelines.
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