Kash Baloch — Poetry, Prose & Survival

Woman brought us to the Earth,
but man will take us out;
ruled by ego and insecurities, 
he shoots before he shouts.
The fourth world war will be fought
with sticks and stones, like in the past:
for the third will annihilate our home,
with one single blast.
If women ruled today, 
we would still have our humanity,
instead of this endless rage, 
that is often coupled with
unadulterated insanity.

She walks with her head held high, with the majesty of birds of prey. With her hips swinging rhythmically, she commands any room she enters, turning heads for different reasons. Her gait emulates American bald eagles, yet society solely see her as a peacock.

A woman can only be pretty, they say her beauty is all that defines her. These double standards are restrictive, and prevent girls from becoming hawks; it forces them into a brand, then keeps them locked up in a box.

Pigeonholed by the age of three, young women are being programmed to believe they can only be desired for their looks.
They are discouraged from being bold, ridiculed for being brave but males—they can be anything and are supported by their peers.

For a female to be confident like a crow, or as self-important as a snowy owl is demeaning. She must possess the grace of a crane, or like a bird of paradise, she should be aesthetically appealing.  

Some of her sisters even keep their distance, choosing to side with their oppressors who coop them up like chickens. What they fail to see is that these false concepts were created by frightened men in suits in conference rooms, and board room meetings.  

They were designed to keep women inferior, and confined to lives centred on their wombs which they cannot even control. Unjust ideals invented to prevent equality, to ensure that daughters of Eve stay in their lanes that lead to dead ends on one way streets. 

For a sister or a mother to aspire to fly is laughable to men who have never even attempted to take flight. They think their superiority is innate, because their fathers tell them lies that are then corroborated by heads of state.

Whether equality is ever achieved or not, I still believe it is more admirable to be a bird with clipped wings who is determined to soar, than a cowardly ostrich with his head buried deep in the dirt.

It is still preferable to see these young ladies rallying together as ravens, instead of conceding to defeat from their counterparts, cackling geese who have become complacent. 

Comfortable with the idea of spending their existence as common pheasants instead of daring to be different.  Wrens whose wings were rendered obsolete, toucans who traded in beaks for pressed white dress shirts, higher wages, and a false concept of masculinity that is so weak.

They are threatened by free women, like the huntress lioness who provides for her hungry children. Men are emasculated by matriarchs who are self-sufficient as their existence relies on feeling needed.  A woman who prevails without a male unnerves them to their very core.

Without the women they marginalized, upon whom they are still dependent, these daft dodo birds helplessly become endangered. They are then sentenced to death by the same double standards they delivered, a fate more bittersweet than it is sour.  

Even the most explicitly misogynistic males transform into mourning doves once they are deprived of their subjugated swans' direction. Suddenly, there is no evidence of their strength and they are lost without the guidance of the quetzal queens they counted as mere possessions. 

Saartjie, Saartjie, Baartman,
her name warrants repetition.
She was a Nubian queen who
was exploited without permission.

They dubbed her the "Hottentot Venus,"
as though she were a freak,
stripped her of her dignity,
then marvelled at her physique.

This African woman is the reason
why black females are still fetishized.
She had no say or control
over the shape or size of her thighs.

My spirit weeps for Saartjie,
paraded throughout Europe, like some kind of clown,
and whenever I think of injustice,
her name is the first to come to mind.

The day she learned to talk, her mother cautioned her to listen.
Moments after her first steps, mama showed her how to run.
Preparing young Sylvie for the inevitable day, 
when she caught the attention of a man who refused to go away.

Sylvie knew all about the monsters under the bed,
she was well-versed on the boogeyman, who filled her with dread.
She could describe the Wolf-man, Dracula, and even Frankenstein,
but her mother warned her the wickedest creature of all was mankind.

She said, “This world was not built for us, we are merely trespassers here.”
Determined to protect her daughter from the same predatory men she feared.
Why do we teach young girls to keep themselves safe,
without teaching little boys not to hurt or maim?

We desire to build our daughters up to believe they can do anything,
to raise them to be confident, and devoid of suffering. 
But what good is it when society just shoots them down,
laughing at them for thinking it were any different now.

The prevalent culture today treats women like objects;
it teaches them to avoid late hours, and even polices how they dress.
When a man finally lapses, and commits insidious rape,
excuses are made in courtrooms, to prevent justice from taking place.

There is no such thing as justice when athletes and celebrities 
are let off with less than a slap on their wrists. 
How are our sisters and daughters to feel valued like this,
when all the evidence proves their cases will only be dismissed. 

It is as though their pain is meaningless,
like a woman’s worth is nothing when compared to her male counterpart’s. 
The system is made up of ripped stockings, scars, and broken hearts. 
How are we expected to compete with the corrupt patriarchs who are in charge?

Imagine the pain of having your innocence stolen from you,
the agony of being penetrated by someone you never knew.
No amount of counseling could erase the tears that come at night,
the sole consequence of being used then tossed aside, and left to die.

Rape is such a malevolent act, it robs victims of their entire lives;
the futures they could have had are tarnished, their dreams all fade to black.
Anxiety rushes to the surface, signaling another oncoming panic attack,
paranoia collaborates with post-traumatic stress creating never-ending flashbacks.

There cannot be change until even privileged rapists are made examples of,
justice will fail to exist until every criminal understands the severity of their actions.
We can pretend equality exists all we want, that will not make it so,
I stand with survivors and I’ll fight for their cause until faith in my fellow man can be restored.