I think Kusameh has sensitively and wisely pointed out how many men have fragmented ourselves from the feminine more sensitive selves, and we and our culture have suffered from this fragmentation.
😥
😥
Kusameh Hewa Omala
Dear Men,
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry you weren't allowed to be pink or pretty or sparkly or to wave a magical fairy wand.
I'm sorry you were ridiculed for being young and happy and free.
I'm sorry for every time you were told you were wrong when you were trying so hard to be right.
I'm sorry for every time you watched your sister or your girl friend get picked up and gently comforted while you were told to get up yourself, stop making a fuss and get on with it.
I'm so sorry you weren't allowed to cry and howl and scream and feel your pain.
I'm sorry you were rewarded so much for violence and greed.
I'm sorry you were told to sit still and be quiet when your body was full of the wind and the sky.
I'm so sorry you were made to go against your instincts in so many ways so many years of being taught how to suppress and divide and fragment yourself.
I'm sorry I noticed your awkwardness and teased you for it, laughing at your discomfort.
I'm sorry for the predator in me that was transfixed by the way my beauty affected you.
I'm sorry for the way she played with you sometimes.
I'm sorry for every time a woman looked at you and made you feel that you weren't good enough to touch her.
I'm sorry for every time you were made to feel unnattractive, that you weren't tall enough or you were too tall, that you were too fat or too thin or not muscular enough, that your hair was wrong, that your dick was too short or too long or just wrong and smelly or it bent the wrong way.
I'm sorry for every time I led you on to boost my own ego and then pushed you away.
I'm sorry for every time I saw your vulnerability as weakness.
I'm so sorry if I ever made you let your guard down and then turned away from what you showed me. You only ever showed me myself.
I'm sorry for every time I have struck you, knowing you can't hit back;
I'm sorry for every time I have blamed you for your shortcomings rather than look at my own.
I'm sorry for every time I expected you to put my needs first without acknowledging your needs at all.
I'm sorry for every way I made you responsible for me.
And I'm really truly sorry for making myself seem smaller because that's what I thought you wanted and then resenting you for not seeing me.
I'm sorry for playing vulnerable in this game between us and expecting you to protect me when I've always known I was stronger than you.
I'm sorry for every time I was angry with you but couldn't tell you why.
I'm sorry for every time I moved the goalposts and made the hoops smaller and withheld my love when you failed my tests.
I'm sorry for every time anybody withheld their love from you.
I'm sorry I made trying to love me so confusing and impossible.
I'm sorry I never really told you what I needed from you, I was too afraid you would give it to me.
I'm sorry there's a part of us so tender and pure and innocent that we locked the door on it and threw away the key.
I'm sorry if you don't identify with the things I've said and are upset that I am speaking for you or saying things about you that aren't true. I'm trying to understand. I can only imagine what it's like to be a man.
I imagine it's just as hard as it is to be a woman.
I'm sorry I called you privileged.
I'm sorry you were ridiculed for being young and happy and free.
I'm sorry for every time you were told you were wrong when you were trying so hard to be right.
I'm sorry for every time you watched your sister or your girl friend get picked up and gently comforted while you were told to get up yourself, stop making a fuss and get on with it.
I'm so sorry you weren't allowed to cry and howl and scream and feel your pain.
I'm sorry you were rewarded so much for violence and greed.
I'm sorry you were told to sit still and be quiet when your body was full of the wind and the sky.
I'm so sorry you were made to go against your instincts in so many ways so many years of being taught how to suppress and divide and fragment yourself.
I'm sorry I noticed your awkwardness and teased you for it, laughing at your discomfort.
I'm sorry for the predator in me that was transfixed by the way my beauty affected you.
I'm sorry for the way she played with you sometimes.
I'm sorry for every time a woman looked at you and made you feel that you weren't good enough to touch her.
I'm sorry for every time you were made to feel unnattractive, that you weren't tall enough or you were too tall, that you were too fat or too thin or not muscular enough, that your hair was wrong, that your dick was too short or too long or just wrong and smelly or it bent the wrong way.
I'm sorry for every time I led you on to boost my own ego and then pushed you away.
I'm sorry for every time I saw your vulnerability as weakness.
I'm so sorry if I ever made you let your guard down and then turned away from what you showed me. You only ever showed me myself.
I'm sorry for every time I have struck you, knowing you can't hit back;
I'm sorry for every time I have blamed you for your shortcomings rather than look at my own.
I'm sorry for every time I expected you to put my needs first without acknowledging your needs at all.
I'm sorry for every way I made you responsible for me.
And I'm really truly sorry for making myself seem smaller because that's what I thought you wanted and then resenting you for not seeing me.
I'm sorry for playing vulnerable in this game between us and expecting you to protect me when I've always known I was stronger than you.
I'm sorry for every time I was angry with you but couldn't tell you why.
I'm sorry for every time I moved the goalposts and made the hoops smaller and withheld my love when you failed my tests.
I'm sorry for every time anybody withheld their love from you.
I'm sorry I made trying to love me so confusing and impossible.
I'm sorry I never really told you what I needed from you, I was too afraid you would give it to me.
I'm sorry there's a part of us so tender and pure and innocent that we locked the door on it and threw away the key.
I'm sorry if you don't identify with the things I've said and are upset that I am speaking for you or saying things about you that aren't true. I'm trying to understand. I can only imagine what it's like to be a man.
I imagine it's just as hard as it is to be a woman.
I'm sorry I called you privileged.
No matter how much armor we have built around us, inside is a tender innocent vulnerable little boy. My Father and brother's bullying me may have toughened me up to survive in this competitive capitalistic culture, however it was the love of my maternal grandmother that kept me from becoming comletely autistic. Still, after all these years, part of me lives in a fantasy world to attempt to escape the cruelty I see and hear around me. If this is the fragmentation, you are writing about, thanks for the wisdom, Kusameh.
Kusameh Hewa Omala Yes. That is the fragmentation I am talking about. It affects all of us, it's only a matter of degree.
I love what you say about your grandmother's love. Ron: Being conditioned from childhood to be racist, sexist, homophobic is very hard to unlearn, in other words. And, of course you have to be conscious of this conditioning and be willing to let it go, and learn how to be unbiased, generous and compassionate.
Ron Alexander I was not a happy little boy, sitting there on the steps, when my injured Dad came home from war , and tried to make a man out of me at the age of 2, 2.5 there on steps. He and my older brother teased me "Only girls have curls". And at that age, "being like a girl" was the worst thing that could be.
Manage
I love what you say about your grandmother's love. Ron: Being conditioned from childhood to be racist, sexist, homophobic is very hard to unlearn, in other words. And, of course you have to be conscious of this conditioning and be willing to let it go, and learn how to be unbiased, generous and compassionate.
Ron Alexander I was not a happy little boy, sitting there on the steps, when my injured Dad came home from war , and tried to make a man out of me at the age of 2, 2.5 there on steps. He and my older brother teased me "Only girls have curls". And at that age, "being like a girl" was the worst thing that could be.
Carly Stevens Thank you Ron, both my parents were children/babies in the Blitz in Portsmouth. Their dads suffered in the war, their mums struggled through bombings and rationing and even gunner planes in the street. I know they were damaged by those experinces. I cannot believe how brave those generations were, how much they suffered and probably still suffer. Those sufferings are passed from parent to child, both men and women in different ways.
I feel for them and for people in the world now experiencing those horrors whose children will be scarred, too.
ManageI feel for them and for people in the world now experiencing those horrors whose children will be scarred, too.
Ron Alexander Yes, thanks for your sensitive wise reply dear Carly.
Manage
Mascha Reimers Don't know if they need forgiving....so many men I know refuse to look at themselves and go on acting out unconscious behavior...
Manage
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