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I cry in the rain
So the tears look the same
While blurring the stain
Helping to hide the shame
From the masculinity
Attached to my name
Who's to blame?
Society?
Maybe,
But it just adds to the pain
That follows the grain
Of this hardened exterior
I can no longer maintain

©2024
Boris Cho Dec 2
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
Athena turned ’round her head
like a night owl on the sly
and looked up behind her
as gold Apollo crossed the sky,

riding with his four coursers’
flying gilded manes and hooves.
Their silver flanks and quarters
thunder across the earth’s blue roof.

The rhythm of their beat
stamps a lyric all their own,
blood coursing with the heat
of the sun-disk they all towed.

The she-god of the wise
observes this cloud-streaked scene,
the man-god shining out,
casting shadows ’round Athene.

Apollo’s path is sinking low
as the winter months advance.
The frost now blurs his glow
and bare forests fall into trance.

It’s in this creeping night
that Athena finds her time.
She draws her wisdom in twilight,
no need for blinding light up high.

For she shines not with a sun.
Instead she lights her own pathway.
By her craft and wits she’ll run
her own trail she blazed today.
Inspired by a statue of Athena in Park Sanssouci in Potsdam. She is posed looking over her shoulder, and at the moment I saw the statue, she seemed to be looking at the setting sun.
mikey preston Nov 15
useless knowledge
reflective ceiling
guys who park their bikes here  
never feel anything
i wish that were me
and i wish that were on me
the bike shed stares back
he’s not looking at me
do i wanna be him or do i wanna **** him? who knows
sports kit - generic hair
i turn seven times in twenty minutes
to check if you're still there
we watch the play
you from outside
me from the back row
are you missing out on training?
you're alone and you must be cold
plastic shorts plastic shirt
standing in an alcove
where god isn't watching
hands pressed flush against cool glass
tall window
you look so small
hiding like a kid
wouldn't you rather be annihilating yourself on the court?
cold hands - dark window - unspecific sport
unspecific boy
has anyone else noticed you?
have you noticed me looking?
forgive me for assuming, but
i hope someday you allow yourself to come inside
there's a free seat next to me
back in toxic masculinity corner?
i don't even like you.
(i want to be just like you.)
i don't want to participate in your humiliation ritual
(i'm sick of being the sacrifice. spread someone else's ribs on the gym floor.)
**** conformity.
(i study every movement and take it for myself.)
**** conformity.
(i want to be just like you.)
**** conformity.
(can i wear your skin?)
don't come near me.
(i want proximity and brotherhood like a sick second hunger.)
please go away.
(please hit me without being afraid of hurting me. with all the tender force of brotherhood.)
i don't talk to him.
(look at me, look at me, look at me, please.)
i'm not good at sports.
(i work so hard and still come up short.)
don't hurt me.
(hurt me like a brother would. i am sick of you walking blood through the hall from the eggshells you walk on. i am not so fragile.)
i can smell the axe body spray.
(hit me like you know i can take it.)
please, no.
(i wish.)
sometimes i just wish i was cool
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