Being a (Gentle)Man today

We’ve reached a tragic point in time where a demonstrated bias from the guilty — ignorant or deliberate - stifles any peaceful debate on the important cause of feminism. For starters, the particularly pro-gender name hasn’t lent a right chord with the masculine sympathizers. But thankfully, it’s not yet a point in the timeline of civilization for no returns. We’ve perhaps woken up a century late to this important cause of equality. But then again, one can understand the injustice meted in the face of the old technologies and communication.

However, this post ain’t particularly a debate nor a solution on feminism. But a cathartic soliloquy of a simple man’s weighted conscience. The burden of being born by anatomy a man, and a genuinely good one at that.

It’s the second day of my glorious stay in the city. The frenzied rush is unsettling and the squabble on the streets intriguing. But it’s a pacy affair that sets my adrenaline on a roll aiding the adventure of my visit to a new place. I climb into the share auto with this girl who’s ready to rush to her home after her palpable strenuous shift. She’s all draped in a fort of apparel to escape the dust with only her gleaming eyes naked, preying the spaces on guard.

For the first time in my life, as I settle in beside, I see the dread in her eyes as she cowers to the corner in fear. I feel the weight of being a man. The burden of being a threat for turning up a stranger of opposite gender. The sorrow of belonging to a civilization that promises its women the freedom to chase dreams, even whilst a blade of fear dangles above their beauty. Her reaction stung me to the deepest corners of my humanity. And I decided there and then, she needed a moment. Of humanity. Not a lesson, but an experience. That reaffirmed the character of mankind and the nobility of our souls.

I broke into a conversation that began with monosyllable replies and grew into sentences, till we were soon exchanging opinions. She was eventually laughing hard over the little stories and sparkling as we savored the sights along. We even picked an ice-cream from the wandering vendor on the way. Racing each other to the finish, fighting it’s cold and the dripping juice. As we finally parted at her destination, she firmly paid her share to the driver and walked away. Turning back after ten steps and paying me a gratuitous smile.

She’s a memory now. A recorded tryst in my journal with an unlabelled stranger.

But every time I think of her, I smile knowing that she would never fear a man again. For just being a man.

We may perhaps have strayed so far that every/most woman fears us at the first glance. For many varied reasons, conscious of our proximity and averse to our intimacy. But we have a responsibility. Each one of us men. To reiterate our humanity over our gender. It doesn’t take much. Perhaps a kind word or a heartfelt gesture to consciously exit a stranger, leaving behind a sweet memory.