Photo Credit: Elie Rizkallah at Plastik Studios
What if we lived in a parallel universe? One where social injustice had no bounds and the fissure that fractured people was subterranean. It oozed the red blood of racism, hurt like the aches of millions of empty stomachs, twitched under every bomb hurled and finally was covered with the bullets in the hearts of the innocent. One where equality was deemed a cancer, where killing every birthright prior to birth isn’t homicide, where masquerading the minimum as maximum was a given, where peace was a folk tale.
Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? One switch was flipped though; the gender roles were reversed.
Women reigned as men slaved to gather the scrapes of their rights. The 51% of the population actually called the shots. To them, power meant nothing if not complemented by trust. The only hunger that could possibly blind them was hunger for giving love. Women gave birth and breathed life into men and children alike, nurturing them with deserved equality.
Women listened to one another and let their tears form the oceans on which they sail on to success, dependence was embraced for in unity they were invincible. They plotted and schemed and executed to demolish their goals, they spread creativity like the sun its rays, they rewarded weakness with experience, they tried to understand; for they comprehend that lack of cognitive communication is the stripping of the spirit of its potential rise in the hierarchy of thought, the only hierarchy that mattered.
Men were used as labor workers and soldiers for their indisputably superior build. Many attempted revolts, but were continually oppressed and the doors of opportunity were always bolted. For what? You’re not feminine enough to be a doctor, for that requires gentleness and tenderness, not an engineer since your imagination is lacking, reject the thought of being a poet you’re not emotionally driven enough, a lawyer is absurd, for what would you know about complete sentimental detachment alongside steel commitment?
The fact remains that, if you believe in that stuff, man had to be mutilated so the woman can be formed. He tried to cover up that one scar. So to accept the idea of domination of men was to sculpt the man’s ego into the perfect…man; to complement and compliment man into feeling whole when, solely, he couldn’t possibly be. Perfect men’s government is allowing the gender that is the epitome of aggression rule our nations and maintain peace, the gender that bruises like a peach to empower one another to hurt all opposition, the gender that walks in a room with their eyes downcast not in humility but in erotically motivated observance, the gender with thirst not for knowledge but for paradise for one instead of moderate for millions. For if a perfect man can’t control his carnal hunger how can he control millions like himself? Only one way exists: with leniency, with forgiveness, with confidentiality.
When did we decide that there is an ideal human being prototype and it’s male? Masculinity is masked insecurity; pompousness is poorly concealed fear of judgment; charm desperation is disguise; so much to hide, so much compressed inside, how could you possibly help someone if you can’t even help yourself? Femininity is often attracted to bearing and caring for others more that oneself. How can you help anyone if your flaws were the only thing people paid attention to? Sounds pretty derogatory doesn’t it? Flip that switch back, for our universes are more alike than different.