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In my journey as a father, I have come to appreciate the profound interplay between masculinity and feminism, two forces often misunderstood as opposing but which, in truth, are deeply intertwined. Raising my spirited 9-year-old daughter has made this understanding both urgent and intimate. I see the questions in her bright eyes, her quiet determination to navigate a world that does not always favor her, and I feel the weight of my role in shaping a future where she can thrive; unapologetic, unburdened, and unbound by the limits of societal expectations.

Feminism, I’ve realized, is not a challenge to masculinity but its complement, offering a lens through which our shared humanity becomes clearer. To embrace it is to deepen our collective understanding, to confront privilege without shame, and to extend empathy as a bridge between differences. As I teach my daughter about respect and equality, I encourage her to see the world not only through her own eyes but also through the eyes of others, understanding both the struggles women face and the unspoken pressures placed upon men. This dual awareness fosters a harmony where all genders can flourish.

The extraordinary women in my life have been my greatest teachers in this. Mentors who guided me with wisdom, a sister whose resilience inspires me, colleagues who challenged and elevated me, and friends whose strength and grace embody the courage it takes to reshape the world. They have shown me that liberation is not merely an abstract ideal but a lived practice; a daily act of courage, care, and connection that transforms everyone it touches.

Their stories, and my daughter’s unfolding one, have taught me that equity requires more than admiration or education. It demands action. I must unlearn the biases I inherited, redefine love as a force for transformation, and actively contribute to dismantling the interconnected systems of oppression that stifle our potential. True liberation cannot exclude anyone; it must honor every voice, embrace every struggle, and envision a world where my daughter’s humanity; and that of all women; is celebrated rather than questioned.

To create this world, I am redefining traditional gender roles within my home, encouraging my daughter to explore her passions free from the weight of convention. I aim to nurture her belief that she can forge any path, whether it aligns with societal norms or not. This empowerment is essential not only to her independence and resilience but also to her capacity to challenge stereotypes and advocate for herself and others.

As I reflect on these lessons, I see that this journey is not mine alone. It is a collective effort; a tapestry woven from love, strength, and shared purpose. Looking into my daughter’s eyes, I am reminded that the work begins with us, with the choices we make daily to foster understanding, support, and empowerment. Change begins with love and ends in freedom.

Equity is not just an aspiration but a necessity, a vision of a world where every individual is valued for who they are, where collaboration replaces competition, and where justice is not an ideal but a reality. By embracing this philosophy, I hope to nurture a future leader who will navigate life with wisdom, empathy, and strength, carrying forward the torch of transformation that will illuminate the path for generations to come.

— Sincerely, Boris
Sara Barrett Nov 14
In this garden of dreams, our hopes start to bloom,
We plan our harvest to each season’s sweet tune.
With seeds of intention, we carefully sow,
Planting seeds of compassion where love’s rivers flow.
We nurture our seedlings, watering with care,
Tending to growth with the patience we share.
Through sunny days and the gentle rain’s kiss,
We learn from each challenge, embracing the bliss.
When we say “I’m sorry,” it clears out the weeds,
Making space for new growth and meeting our needs.
Together, we toil, side by side, as we learn,
In the warmth of our love, our hearts brightly burn.
With each passing season, new wonders arise,
As we cultivate dreams beneath wide-open skies.
Now we’ve matured, this love that we have grown,
Reaping the sweet fruits of the care that we’ve sown.
In this sanctuary where true selves align,
Our dreams intertwined like a strong, sturdy vine.
Together, we’ll flourish as our garden expands,
Creating a haven where love understands.
With future horizons bright and clear,
We’ll nurture our journey year after year.
As time moves forward, hand in hand we stay,
Bound by a love that will not fade away.
Through life's final chapter, steadfast and true,
Our hearts remain one in all that we do.
In this eternal garden, forever we'll dwell,
A love everlasting; no words can dispel.
This poem beautifully explores the themes of growth, love, and partnership through the metaphor of a garden. It reflects on the nurturing of relationships, emphasizing the importance of intention and care in cultivating both love and personal development. The imagery of planting seeds and tending to plants symbolizes the effort required to maintain a healthy relationship. The concluding thoughts reinforce the idea of enduring love, suggesting a commitment that lasts through all seasons of life. Ultimately, this poem delivers a hopeful and optimistic message about how love can flourish over time when partners equally invest in the effort, time, and sacrifice along their shared journey.
Claire Kowal Nov 6
If the day ends and I no longer have the rights to myself,
Is it truly the land of the free?
Or is it only free to the straight white men that loom in offices and make laws on matters that don’t relate to them.
If I wake up tomorrow and see I can’t love who I love,
Is it really what Jesus said when he said love thy neighbor?
Or is thy neighbor only supposed to be a straight white Christian man?
A man who claims to live by a book written by other men like him,
Claiming stories of a man who loves everyone,
Of a man who said everyone must love equally
But why do these men not follow the simple rule from the book they revolve their lives around?
Is it that hard to love each other?
To love me?
A pained fifteen-year-old girl who wants to love someone and be loved,
Yet the rights of being a girl and the rights of love are ripped out of my torn and blistered hands and handed to the boy next to me who already has his own rights of living.
Is my life worth less than the next person because I might not marry a man?
That I might need to save my life by having an abortion after I’m ***** by the same men who claim they know me and my body?
At least my struggles aren’t as intense as my friends,
But is that a good thing?
No.
My rights might become limited,
But theirs might be truly gone
If the sun breaks the horizon and I lose everyone and everything I’ve ever known,
Will my home of the brave no longer be a home to those who fall into the categories of failure?
The work I’ve created, we’ve created, might be destroyed once the ticks of the tallies grow.
this is referencing the us election
The world maybe bitter and dull,
to some without a meaning,
bright the eye of heaven shall shine, on a day with no complaining.

Hope does fade away sometimes,
on days that are restraining,
and blessed our lives can be,
content without refraining.

Life can be difficult sometimes
when ground you’re hardly gaining, but if you walk a righteous path
good deeds you are attaining.

Prominent you may be,
in a life you are sustaining,
but no pedigree shall save your soul, in a world where all are waning.

In time of death we shall not brag, of deeds that are beshaming, equal we are when deceased, in a world of no explaining, no mortal soul will hear your call, from the grave if you are complaining.
Man Jun 17
You are superior to 𝘸𝘩𝘰?
I am no one's inferior,
And if someone has differing conjecture;
Congratulations, I believe you!
Clearly, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 are less than 𝘮𝘦.
Zywa Mar 2022
Today is like yesterday
I turn around again
If only I could live
the way I want

You can do it
without any trouble
but about my wishes
there is a hassle
Leave me alone, stop
with these rules
and learned opinions
I don't feel like
defending myself all the time
and thinking
about other people's problems

Enough thinking has been done
I don't need to
redo it, why
should I torment myself?
Collection "The drama"
Sadie May 10
You admire pieces of me
Soft and beautiful
For the pleasure they can give you
You condemn my capability
Practicality and spirituality
You claim I can’t have it both ways
I can’t indulge my senses and hold power the same
Divine femininity has become synonymous with delusion
In a modern world that will never love me
I am aligned with the moon
I am in tune
With the rhythm of the waves
And the passage of days
You don’t know what I feel
How it is to exist in a world not built for you
Every living soul
Assigning your worth for what you can’t control
All of mankind is built on the principle
That my body was built for your enjoyment
That my life belongs to whatever man finds beauty in my eyes
And peace in my silence
Of course I turn to the tides and the trees and the breeze
To find comfort in their embrace
When you can’t hold me
You mock me for connecting to something bigger than my body
Loving Mother Nature more than the woman that brought
Me into this world
Yet you reduce my strength to beauty
Tell me I am too weak and small and simple minded
To understand a world you built
Out of fear of me
My divine femininity
Nigel Finn Feb 26
The Same Table

We are all sitting
At the same table.
Some of us have more food,
                               more guns,
                               more oil,
                               more everything.
Some of us will laugh more,
                     will cry more,
                     will sigh more,
                     will feel more.
Some of us will die young,
                      will die old,
                      will die willingly,
                      will never live properly at all.
Some of us wear red,
                     wear blue,
                     wear black,
                     wear all the colours of the rainbow,
Some of us have light skin,
                     have dark skin,
                     have smooth skin
                     have scars criss-crossing our bodies,
But none of us
Sit high enough
          To look down
     On anyone.
Zywa Feb 21
With a clean duster,

the maid goes around the house --


waving like a queen.
Novel "Fury" (2001, Salman Rushdie), chapter 14

Collection "Low gear [2]"
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