Chapter 1.1: A new beginning

I had always known I would eventually become a firefighter. It was in my blood, in my genes and it was my biggest dream. Dad had tried through my entire childhood to talk me out of it. Starting with threats: It’s dangerous, it’s a man’s world, you’ll see people get hurt, you’ll see people lose their loved ones and so on. When it didn’t work he switched to begging: Please don’t do it, it’s dangerous, you might get hurt. Yada, yada, yada. I won’t say I didn’t listen, because I did. I heard every word and it just made me want it so much more.

Dad was a firefighter too, so he knew what he was talking about. I think the main reason he didn’t want me to become a firefighter was that I was a girl, though. He always pretended I was that little baby doll-girl, while I in reality was nothing like that. I was, and still am, what most people would call a tombboy. I never enjoyed playing with dolls, I never fancied make-up or pretty clothes. I rarely had any girlfriends. When other girls my age went shopping or dating boys, I went to the gym.

My dream of becoming a firefighter had always been what pushed me forward. I fought hard, every single day to get closer to my goal. I pushed myself harder and harder, knowing that it would take so much more from me, just because of my sex, to get there. But I was determined to not let my gender stop me.

I had always felt that my sex made me weaker and less important. Heck, it had been the truth for so long. It’s not like women had the same rights as men in all time. Some say we are equals now but it’s a lie. We’re not equals in every deparment, and we might never be. There are things that you, as a woman, will have to fight harder for than men do. Physical perfection, for example.

As if being a woman wasn’t enough, I’m also colorless. Blank. White. I can’t even try to describe what that means in a world as ours, where everyone and everything is colorful. The norm is colorful man. It wasn’t uncommon to hear that colorless ‘bows have less brain capacity or that colorless ‘bows are freaks, or my favourite poor parents being cursed with that thing. Growing up, I fought that too. Luckily, I was a strong girl and wouldn’t let them get to me. Every word they threw after me made me stronger and more eager to prove them wrong.

I don’t know what my parents initial thoughts on having a colorless baby was but I know I never noticed them being ashamed of me. I remember being shown to the world instead, as if they were using me as an example. As if they tried to fight what had been the truth forever, all by themselves.  They made a statue of me, and I guess it made people dislike me even more. Colorless sims weren’t supposed to be shown as statues. We were supposed to be hidden. Tucked away from the colorful world we were living in. Tucked away as the shameful result of mutations and failure. I wonder who I would be if my parents did that?

One of the most characteristic things for a berry is to dress themselves in their own color. Most do this out of pride for their personal color while some choose another color just to make a statement. Among us few colorless berries that are trying to make ourself a life in the colorful ‘bow world most dress in color, just to try and hide the colorless truth. There is nothing to be proud of if you lack color. But since I was old enough to decide on my own, I have taken pride in my colorless self. I have pillaged through store after store to find some pieces of colorless clothes. It hasn’t been easy, but I’ve managed to gather myself a pretty decent colorless wardrobe. Just what I needed to really show my pride for my lack of color. I suppose I put a thumb in many bows’ sides, doing exactly what everyone wished for me to not do. They’ve always hated me.

I wished they could see me now, all those sims who spat on me. All those people who snorted because of my pure existence. Boy, would they be surprised, a colorless girl in a firefighter suit? I don’t think I need to mention I was proud?

“I did it paps” I said and placed a bouchet of roses on his grave. White, of course. Symbolic. “I’ll make you proud, I promise”.

Posted by FruHurricane on August 28, 2012

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