Fight, mother. Fight.
She was a woman, in a land of wolves
and yet, she did the best she could.
Under the circumstances of her birth.
She struggled life long with the hurt
of seeing every man eye her like a piece of meat.
Of the falseness of their smiles, as if sensing
the fear that drummed inside her chest. with each heart beat.
And she fought still, just to keep alive
just to go on with her normal, everyday life.
All she asked for in return was a place to be herself, to hide.
But even that piece of heaven, to a woman, was denied.
Because she is always someone else's problem.
She was foisted onto someone else, if she fought them.
She was someone else's daughter, wife or mother.
Never was she allowed to become herself,
to find herself, to see herself in the mirror, her potential.
Instead she is kept locked away,
and the keys are thrown away, to her utter dismay.
She prays, oh how she prays, that someone will listen
and life her up, off her knees, on these dismal days.
She waits for no prince charming, no knight wearing white.
She only asks for what is her, what belongs to her by right.
The right to a dignified life, of not having to fight
each day to protect her honor from harm, from their eyes.
And each day they fail to see how they are killing her.
they are blind to her pain, mirrored so closely in their sister's eyes.
Their mother's stories of shame and pain
are forgotten like tears in the rain.
They are gone, like this moment. But doomed to return
each time we don't listen and turn a blind eye to the demise
of their silent cries. Called names if she complains, if she cries.
We ignore half the population, kill them as babies,
hunt them as girls and abuse them as wives.
And then give them an iota of freedom and are unhappy
when they protest against this unworthy compromise.
Open your eyes! She is your mother, your sister. your wife.
But she is human too, or do you refuse to see
how you squeeze her heart, make her afraid of going outside.
With everything from her hair colour, to her shoe style questioned
until she is quiescent and decided to compromise.
And wears what you tell her, does what you tell her
and becomes obedient . What did you want from her?
To be a slave or a wife?
Every day I see these little plays being played out, men jeering, leering,
undressing her with their eyes.
And we call ourselves civilized?
The oldest civilization in history,
isn't that our claim to fame and glory?
So why don't we cry when another child, mother or woman dies?
Is forced to end her own life, when we don't rise to her side?
She isn't a sin, a burden or a problem. She is our pride.
And we treat her like a sin. Like someone we despise.
And so, until we open ourselves to the equality that is our right
and establish a society based on freedom and not compromise.
Fight, mother, fight. Assume your rightful place in history.
Amongst the greats of mankind.
Until you no longer have a reason to hide your face or your fears,
Fight.
and yet, she did the best she could.
Under the circumstances of her birth.
She struggled life long with the hurt
of seeing every man eye her like a piece of meat.
Of the falseness of their smiles, as if sensing
the fear that drummed inside her chest. with each heart beat.
And she fought still, just to keep alive
just to go on with her normal, everyday life.
All she asked for in return was a place to be herself, to hide.
But even that piece of heaven, to a woman, was denied.
Because she is always someone else's problem.
She was foisted onto someone else, if she fought them.
She was someone else's daughter, wife or mother.
Never was she allowed to become herself,
to find herself, to see herself in the mirror, her potential.
Instead she is kept locked away,
and the keys are thrown away, to her utter dismay.
She prays, oh how she prays, that someone will listen
and life her up, off her knees, on these dismal days.
She waits for no prince charming, no knight wearing white.
She only asks for what is her, what belongs to her by right.
The right to a dignified life, of not having to fight
each day to protect her honor from harm, from their eyes.
And each day they fail to see how they are killing her.
they are blind to her pain, mirrored so closely in their sister's eyes.
Their mother's stories of shame and pain
are forgotten like tears in the rain.
They are gone, like this moment. But doomed to return
each time we don't listen and turn a blind eye to the demise
of their silent cries. Called names if she complains, if she cries.
We ignore half the population, kill them as babies,
hunt them as girls and abuse them as wives.
And then give them an iota of freedom and are unhappy
when they protest against this unworthy compromise.
Open your eyes! She is your mother, your sister. your wife.
But she is human too, or do you refuse to see
how you squeeze her heart, make her afraid of going outside.
With everything from her hair colour, to her shoe style questioned
until she is quiescent and decided to compromise.
And wears what you tell her, does what you tell her
and becomes obedient . What did you want from her?
To be a slave or a wife?
Every day I see these little plays being played out, men jeering, leering,
undressing her with their eyes.
And we call ourselves civilized?
The oldest civilization in history,
isn't that our claim to fame and glory?
So why don't we cry when another child, mother or woman dies?
Is forced to end her own life, when we don't rise to her side?
She isn't a sin, a burden or a problem. She is our pride.
And we treat her like a sin. Like someone we despise.
And so, until we open ourselves to the equality that is our right
and establish a society based on freedom and not compromise.
Fight, mother, fight. Assume your rightful place in history.
Amongst the greats of mankind.
Until you no longer have a reason to hide your face or your fears,
Fight.
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