I used to get angry at men who lock women up in their wallets and swallow the key. At men who slice women, splinter them into teeny fragments. With their words. Or deeds. Or fists. I used to get angry at men who make themselves men by standing on the shoulders of cowering women.
I used to get angry at women who make these wallets comfortable. Fit them out with the latest technology and fill the wallet closets with designer shoes just so they can’t feel the hole where their souls once were. I used to get angry at women who live with these woodcutter men, these butcher men who make them into nothing. At women who drag their children into these bloody worlds. These worlds where words are always blades. Where conversations have neither ‘verse’ nor any ‘pro’ to balance the ‘con’.
But now, all I feel is sad.
My sisters, have you forgotten that you are the conduit between the seen and unseen worlds? Only you are strong enough to ride the waves of pain, powered only by your love, in order to deliver another soul to the shores of humanity. Yet you, yes, you, allow this same soul to become a man who would one day reduce another woman to nothing. You tell this girl soul that she must always remember her place. Why?
You are the spine that helps a fallen man stand again. Yet you walk by when you see a sister’s spine being broken by a man’s heavy boot.
You are his honour. Yet you strip another woman of her honour by blaming her when your man is a slave to his desires.
You help your man earn his place among men. Even when you no longer see yourself as human. Yet you won’t teach your daughter that her place is more than a mere vassal, sworn to serve her man.
Have you gone so long listening to the lies men tell you when they, emasculated by life, steal your humanity to regain their masculinity, that you now hold them to be your truths?
tell me, have you forgotten?