MONROVIA — The most charming thing about a woman is her vulnerability. This doesn’t imply weakness, because when a woman is clothed in her truth, there’s no part of her soul that’s hidden—whether the good, the bad, or the ugly. With such realization, she finds strength even in the saddest moments, such as heartbreak. Even when all she should do at that point is cry because she’s emotionally torn apart, she would rather fight the temptation of allowing her soul to wallow in depression, offering instead the most precious broken smile you could ever see.
By Edwin Elic-Jaleiba, Lifestyle & Entertainment Editor
Women were born to feel pain; everything about being the Eve gender naturally hurts. But the awesomeness lies in how they have mastered the art of happiness more than men. The amount of day-to-day struggle a woman survives, coupled with the high societal pressure that’s intended to control her like a puppet—forgetting she’s human and not an object to be toyed with—has made women more resilient, more masculine, than the Adam gender. Could we put Anitram in the conversation of a masculine-minded woman?
Anitram grew on us slowly. From her first musical effort in 2017, “I’m Grateful” with the late legend Quincy B, it almost felt like her last because she went on a break, and it took forever for her to resurface. When she did, at the early stage of it, we couldn’t trust her sound enough like we do now. That’s because she was indecisive; we weren’t sure what she wanted us to hear. She was playing it safe and sounded as if she was scared of what everyone would think or feel about her being unapologetically truthful. It was still a process where she was finding her voice to speak out boldly. In that era, we heard good songs she sang for the sake of it—until “Cheeta” dropped, followed by “Aura,” and we were introduced to the Anitram we love now and can’t get enough of.
Anitram is like a human novel, with a compilation of love stories that reflect how women deal with romance in Liberia and the world at large. She connects so well with her inner self; her music is therapeutic. Is this why we should call “Tragedy” the most profound love song by a female in the history of Liberian music?
The plethora of emotions in “Tragedy” takes us on a tour through Anitram’s heart. What would you see there? First of all, you would see scars that tell the story of every Liberian girl and woman. You would see the agony and sorrow they survived to earn these scars. These scars no longer hurt, even though the memories of them might pull tears from the eyes. Instead, they are seen as a source of strength and elevation. Her heart is like a broken mirror, yet more of a shining crystal, reflecting the future of every Liberian girl and woman. The vision is beautiful: everyone wears a crown, with no competition, no hatred or rivalry—just Queens and Princesses living truthfully, glowing in their aura, and ruling in different realms of leadership.
On the canvas of heartbreak, Anitram has beautifully painted a face that every woman or girl sees as her own—a face of recovery, hope, self-love, and unbroken dreams. The few seconds of “Tragedy” at the tail end, where she was seeking justice for love and peace, show that Anitram is more than a Barbie doll; she is a woman activist who uses her voice to create the change she demands.
Discussion about this post