Recently with one defiant action, I deconstructed an idea so permeating, so ingrained by society that it touches virtually every aspect of our day to day lives, often unbeknownst to us.
An idea so virulent, so pervasive that it has altered countless lives in so many tragic, devastating ways. It’s nefarious underpinnings surreptitiously able to enmesh and intertwine with our daily existence with minimal resistance, a toxic, clinging Hedera personified. Becoming part of our identities, defining us. Shaping us. Poisoning us.
Men and women.
No one has escaped its grasp. The secretion of those tiny globules from the unassuming social rootlets, microscopic in size, nanoparticles, able to seep into any crack, any crevice, finding purchase. Formed of myriad compounds with incredible ability to adhere to any surface, any person. Each particle by itself weak, but together a powerful superglue, securely bonding unwelcome guest to host. Altering it.
We have all been in the presence of its tenacious tendrils at some point in our lives, in some way. Causing us to question our worth. Our value. To ourselves. To those around us.
Those three words.
Each monosyllabic. Independently, benign. But together, razor sharp, as though meticulously worked on the whetstone by deviously skilled craftsmen over the generations. Honed and beveled for the perfect cutting edge. Penetrating.
Be A Man
I steeled myself, slipping confidently into my psychological hauberk, protected against the blades of judgement, shame, and guilt – its trifecta of Goondas, attempting the dirty work but unable to find fault in my armour, slashing with futility. Each stinging advance parried. Rebuffed.
Not that day. Not me. A lesser man would have failed. Fallen to the onslaught, a victim to all that the statement represents. Represented.
This is the story of my emancipation from those three words.
I made coffee. But soon realized I had no milk. Nor had I any sugar.
I poured it down the drain. Untouched.