(excerpts from Strength of the Woman; Chapter 6)
Yet again modern men remain quiet, but quite resolutely still steadfast in the sustenance of that ancient model of their gradual dominance over the women folk. It is not ever fully concealed or nearly abandoned in its impertinence. It recaptures every single edge it lets off and increasingly intimates its younglings with the self esteem of its virtues, before they even fully grasp how to also intimidate with it.
Their expression of this intent is unguardedly simpler when they are young. That is when black and white is blurred into an innocent grey and the earliest gusto of the showmen’s world they are born into cannot fully differentiate immodesty from humility. They tend to hide their shortcoming so poorly then.
Young girls in the male younglings’ presence are made tolerant of the arbitrary interference to the optimistic promise of their natural feminine love as shown manipulatively and reinforced. It is initially pleasing, but it doesn’t eventually gladden as it doesn’t ever exempt a single one of them. Subsequently, all women get to feel fully uprooted and well armed with an arsenal of useless weapons.
In his immediate community, the young boy isn’t ever seen to be criticizing his women folk, instead he is said to be just ever critiquing as he ages into slowly appreciating them. Even as sister resists attempts to belittle their efforts to make her brother her bettered partner, he yet upsets her with the most solemn words of disrespect and embarrasses her best effort to give him a revered distinction. Remarkably, this is most probably a distinction he doesn’t ever show he deserves.
It is the very old: BATTLE OF THE CELLS
Who must comes first,
Males or the females?
This knowledge a thirst
That quenches with cells
If what is common birth
Forms females or males;
Supremacy is their myth,
Caged within each cells.
Still the sole permit she is allowed in corroborating with him is amazingly incompatible in the scheme of things, as it sparks of a series of fixations that he needs countered but doesn’t ever let. He forever masters her identity and its personification. Her lamentation is always in true isolation because he causes it with the continuous surge of his self worth. The strayed debris of her glories is made an eclectic collection of incongruities, meant to suit his pleasures. She is forced to shyly thank him for this same insult to her person over and over again.
She is stopped from worrying about the things he does habitually, those that fix a solemn expression on her gloomy face and eternally ambush her with listless accusations about falsehoods, mindless of her integrity. Her expression of her exhibited feelings is considered improper, even as he insinuates that this same altruism of hers, conflates into her most loved attributes. He shamelessly sees these virtues as ingenious, stimulating and inspiring.
As such she is made his ultimate item of ridicule by his very own instruments of condemnation she still adores.
That is the crux of the STRENGTH OF A WOMAN
Where is the bird that hatched this egg?
Flying above the world, up so very high.
And the monkey the farmer wouldn’t beg?
Laughing up a branch, he threatens not near.
Will they ever marry their ideas, so very big?
As always they steal, flock, eat and do share.
Flying above the world, up so very high,
The bird still returns down to hatch its egg.
Laughing away harmless threats if not near,
The monkey’s hunger for the farm will beg.
Their ideas created their world and it is clear,
That strength of the woman gave marriage a leg.
Strenght of a Woman