A woman’s life can be a horror show of marionetted strings of despair, because once upon a time she was born to obey, and to live a life unaware. Illusory perceptions can still entwine a gravely nurtured host, her lot in life and futured dreams all bind together with lost hope, whilst being tied to the selfish whims of others.
She was an animal for the training pit, an object to be desired, a creature to remain both loyal and shit, by another’s obsession, control, defiance.
And now, a lifetime after her liberty, there’s a concerted effort to re-bind those chains, through regressionisms, oppressionisms and resurrected remains, of ominous pretenses all shielded by faces of the same, to ensnare and incarcerate a new manipulated, mastered and enslaved.
Her freedoms have been hard won and those subjugation’s she now denies, but a line so broad and imposing, illuminates the new intents to define. The ‘line,’ a symbol of her battered past, tries once again to delimit and restrain, and all by those now lost to themselves, with no hope, no future, no name.
She sought out her true identity, fearlessly and outside of grasping hands, and the men who once defined themselves by her light, her heart, her man, now find their lives so undefined and their abilities underwhelmed, an identity they fail to find, because their patriarchal grandfathering omitted to impart or import, a life beyond their mothering and othering, beyond their self-serving roles.
A man no-longer plays a part that binds a woman’s being, she has surpassed the bound up wife and the walked over mat, only taken out for beatings. It’s not her problem that you are lost, it’s not her place to direct, she has evolved beyond your grasp and knows where it is that she desires to walk next.
The moments you hold dear to, are the moments she has lived, the memories that you cling to, are the memories she has risked. A woman lives with vision, a vision that guides her path and she sees beyond the established norms of ‘he and she til’ death do they part.’
So instead of wasting your precious time on controlling, dominating, subjugating and patriarchal pasts, look ahead and be a man, there are many who have found their path, trace their steps if you’re at a loss and seek yourself along the way, you might be surprised at the road ahead when you shift your regressive gaze.
This little tale is not just about men and a percentages inability to evolve, regression is not gender sensitive because regressive femininity still claws at the edges of feminine resolve.