THE ILLUSIONARY COMPLEX
When you ask her to call or text when she’s home safe,
I ask you to pause a tad bit to let the weight of that request unravel.
For this is a she, who has walked alone through the years,
who has carved her path through storms and silence,
Who does not need your vigilance to prove her place or ability to take care of herself
She is no fragile helpless thing, not a damsel in distress.
Her independence is not a void for you to fill,
But a testament to the life over the years she has built
A life where she learned to stand tall,
To navigate the world with her compass.
Yet here you are, offering care wrapped in assumption,
As if her safety were yours to oversee.
Ask yourself: how many nights and streets as she walk alone,
Unshielded, unafraid, before you came into her life?
How many thoroughfares has she conquered,
Her resolve unbroken by fear or shadows?
Your gesture, though maybe well-meaning,
carries the echo of an ancient script
One where she is cast as the weaker sex,
And you, the alpha male protector; the saviour.
But she is no mere character in your narrative.
She is the author of her own story,
A goddess who needs no Armored Carrier
But be given her dues, respected, and understood.
So, let your care be rooted not in ego,
But in the recognition of her sovereignty.
Let it be a quiet offering, not a proclamation.
For true care does not diminish her strength;
It honours it without pretence or presumption.
And to the men who see themselves as shields:
Unlearn the myth of your necessity.
For she has lived, thrived, and risen
Long before you arrived and would go on long after you were gone.
Your role is not to protect her, but to stand beside her, as a partner,
In a world that needs no more illusions of guardianship.
Let this be a lesson to humanity:
Care should not be controlled,
Love must not be a possession,
And strength is not measured by who stands guard,
But by who stands free.
I ask you to pause a tad bit to let the weight of that request unravel.
For this is a she, who has walked alone through the years,
who has carved her path through storms and silence,
Who does not need your vigilance to prove her place or ability to take care of herself
She is no fragile helpless thing, not a damsel in distress.
Her independence is not a void for you to fill,
But a testament to the life over the years she has built
A life where she learned to stand tall,
To navigate the world with her compass.
Yet here you are, offering care wrapped in assumption,
As if her safety were yours to oversee.
Ask yourself: how many nights and streets as she walk alone,
Unshielded, unafraid, before you came into her life?
How many thoroughfares has she conquered,
Her resolve unbroken by fear or shadows?
Your gesture, though maybe well-meaning,
carries the echo of an ancient script
One where she is cast as the weaker sex,
And you, the alpha male protector; the saviour.
But she is no mere character in your narrative.
She is the author of her own story,
A goddess who needs no Armored Carrier
But be given her dues, respected, and understood.
So, let your care be rooted not in ego,
But in the recognition of her sovereignty.
Let it be a quiet offering, not a proclamation.
For true care does not diminish her strength;
It honours it without pretence or presumption.
And to the men who see themselves as shields:
Unlearn the myth of your necessity.
For she has lived, thrived, and risen
Long before you arrived and would go on long after you were gone.
Your role is not to protect her, but to stand beside her, as a partner,
In a world that needs no more illusions of guardianship.
Let this be a lesson to humanity:
Care should not be controlled,
Love must not be a possession,
And strength is not measured by who stands guard,
But by who stands free.
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