Our greatest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our greatest fear is that we are more powerful than we can imagine.

Posts tagged ‘creative writing’

Nomad

I was born in specialty ,
Growing up to not fit in,

I keep travelling to find what I’m
looking for,
Though I do not know what I want.

I see nothing but everything sees me.

I grasp nothing, I refuse nothing.
I receive but I do not keep.

When you search for it, you lose it.
When you aren’t looking for it, you find it.
When you want it, it’s never there.
When you need it, it’s always there.

An echo whispers in the horizon,
On and on in one place as the world moves around me,

The hummingbird sings softley, I happen to hear it. That’s okay.
A flower happens to smell, I smell it. That’s okay.

The ocean waves to be recognised.

The brown leaves fall to make way for the new.
A thousand blossoms bloom from a hundred trees.

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An open letter to feminism

Dear Feminism,

You want all of this attention like you care, like you really give it your all in a new and innovative way but instead you’ve led gender equality into an oppressive monotony. What started the movement was a sense of gross injustice: major female equality; no political power; no equal pay, health care etc and what has far concluded the movement this generation is a sense of un-realistic formality; a predictable, aggressive, mindless mess that asks you not of your sense of equality or productivity but privilidge, lack of individuality and dictating to men to follow directions. You ask of us our ability to get hit, abused or molested by women, not do anything about it and walk away; you ask of us to mindlessly not question aggression and abuse of privilidge in the face of blunt attacks. You ask of us our willingless to mudanley put up with another woman (in the most skimpiest outfit imaginable) who says she is being infringed upon as a woman in the first world. You ask of us to deal with the most hysterical and unlogical claims imaginable and the public have to roll with it because democracies are based on public and the most outspoken opinion; with the somehow counter-intuitive reply of ‘thank you’. No bias issues here that could possibly get out of hand and cripple any attempts to help women become equal.

Today’s feminism is like a spoiled rich kid who gets everything laid out for them their entire life and, when it comes to making it on their own, they can’t take it. You expect everyone to love you because ‘you are who you are’, part of the ‘illustrious women’s lineage’, nothing could possibly be wrong with you. You look just like a feminist but you’re not one. You’re a pampered, doughy, snob wearing nice clothes expected to graduate scott free because your parent’s in a lumb. Why would you need to improve? Why would you need to get any better? Everyone just agrees with you ideas because you’re a feminist.

The worst thing is men get the blame for this no matter what, as if we’re a child who has had their favourite toy taken away. Stop patronizing me as a guy and constantly berating that I’m someone who has no control over how I act. The world is a more mixed and diverse place than it was in the 1970’s. As a guy, when people tell me “what I do dictates how I view women as objects”, it patronizes me because it says I can’t make decisions for myself. It looks down on me as if I’m a child who’s had their favourite toy taken away and that’s what’s so fustrating; it suggests as a man, I’m bred to make decisions which are outside my control and automatically loose control when I see a woman in provocative clothes. That just comments on how much people lack self-esteem that they would stoop to that level. On the other hand, as a man I’m biologically geared to have sex with women (unless gay). When I see a naked woman or a woman in provocative clothes, I will look and it takes self-control not to. It’s like an office of bears being surrounded by salmon covered in honey, you can’t help but pay attention. If you have the confidence to be genuine and aren’t insecure, things like this don’t happen. In fact, life is better.

Feminist argue about ‘objectifying females’ and the body but maybe looking at naked women as being taboo is a comment on how we perceive the body. The body is such as beautiful and sexual thing; sex itself is a beautiful experience. From such young ages, we’re taught the body is taboo and genetalia is something we’re forbidden to talk about. Why are we then suprised when a moral crisis breaks out over stuff like this? And why sexual fustration, porn and rapes occur? Rape isn’t sexual, in fact it’s a form of psychological domination, what does that suggest? It suggests we are raised in this society where our sexualities aren’t made comfortable and it gives rise to uncomfortable acts. We’re so uncomfortable with ourselves that we need to dominante people. And does society help this? No, they shove things down our throats every five minutes because they know we’ll look. We’re the only people to blame for this: both the actors and reactors, both men and women. We need to sort ourselves out before we can sort this out and understand why it’s happening before pointing to finger.

So feminists, here is some advice:

1) Stop being so activist in your approach where it isn’t necessary. Help women in less fortunate countries who are actually being oppressed (rather than small cases in the first world where one person does something).

2) Be more logical concise and don’t rely on hysteria, you are just reinforcing the stereotype that women are overly-emotional. Infact, don’t be hysterical at all.

3) Show other women that gender should not be used as a privilidge to abuse, for example hitting men and not expecting to be hit yourself or expecting to be the first people to be entitled to something for everyone.

4) Encourage respect and moderate attitude to the female body. Encourage women to act as individuals and rational human beings.

Before I end this, let me extend an olive branch so you can understand where I am coming from.

Coming from a Greek Cypriot background, I know how relative this is to Western societies and their former colonies. In Britain, every woman wears the most tight and revealing clothing imaginable, sexualises themselves and says “I am a woman, I have the right to be independent and do what I want”. But they’re not being independent, they’re doing it for the men (unless gay). They don’t make the effort and get dressed up for no reason, they’re trying to show their sexiness to someone. Most importantly, all it shows is insecurity. It shows they’re so insecure, they will dress up in the most skimpiest clothes and say they are being independent about it. Really, they have been so brainwashed to be insecure about everything about them that they don’t know what they want.

In Cyprus, there’s no commoditising of sexes. In the Western World, everything is seen with a materialistic outlook: what can I buy? What is on offer? What is being sold to me? This is seen in relationships and what women look for in men. When she is interested in men, she is looking for ways to disqualify him. Whereas men QUALIFY, women DISQUALIFY. What this does is commoditieses and makes things competitive. More disgustingly, it objectifies being with a person. The person is the goal, they are the prize, they can be commoditised. This is a fantasy, a largely Western one and the results are destructive. This is inbuilt to our language, even to the point of relationships. It explains a lot. It explains for example why divorce rates are the highest from voluntary marriages in the West. It explains how cheating has become such as huge phenomena in the West rather than elsewhere. This fantasy is just that; it’s an illusion: it doesn’t exist.

Where I am from, the women are beautiful and are raised to be emotionally strong so there is no insecurity. Even the most beautiful Greek women on their best night out dress moderately (long dresses, loose tops, trousers etc) with little to show because they know they don’t need to: they know they’re beautiful anyway. If they have any insecurities, they’re part of a close-knit community that helps them and determines they are valuable. There’s no media, no television, no magazines and no internet jamming down their throat that there’s something wrong with them (the only people who sexualise themselves in Cyprus are either on T.V, insecure or British Cypriots anyway, you can tell). That’s such as superficial thing anyway and is only really a part of Western culture. It’s done no favours and never will do.

What I am trying to say is we will understand gender equality when it is here and we stop talking about it in it’s context of gender oppression, that feminists seem to emphasise all the time; it’s in our language. When Emma Watson did the speech for gender equality I was watching with optimism but then she called it ‘He for she’. She implied that men need to be dependant on women and work for them, that we can’t be independant ourselves, that we can’t make choices and everything is geared up towards women like a servant in the king’s court. Why should I do that? What if I don’t want to be ‘for she’ and be independant?

The first symptom of solving a problem is recognising it exists and we should realise that these problems, if we are to overcome them, cannot be mundanley controlled in these clear-cut categories that feminists create; that somehow oppression is there when it isn’t and women should contantly be vigilant and on the lookout for it in themselves. That just creates insecurity and that’s the last thing we need if we are to go forwards.

Best Wishes
Nicholas Petrou

 


The last stand

The sound of the flickering light in the room festered until the lamp stabalized. Banging sounded from a nearby echo in a corridor somewhere. It was followed by a louder more imposing smash. It didn’t stir any of the soldiers. The remnants of a once strong regiment was now down to 20 men and women. They were all battered and exhausted; their olive green fatigues hung on their dreary and worn bodies. The men were vaguely recognizable to the glorious soldiers they had once been, their ammo belts hung off their rags like a burdening child. The women, once beautiful, were only recognizable by the obvious cheek bones pocking off their faces in front of their worn-out hair. All of them had tied their hair in a bun which only succeeded in bringing out their skeletal features further.

An orderly, only recgnizable by rank now, walked up to the tall figure in the peak cap.
“Commissar, they’re in the corridors now heading for our location. I still haven’t received communications from the surface. They’ll be no reinforcemen-“.
“I see”, he said cutting him off. The game was up and it was obvious what the outcome would be. The commissar personally wondered why the adjacent had whispered to him. The confined space of the vault meant every trooper could hear them. The game was up.
“Commissar? Is this it?”, a woman murmurred from a shadow in the corner of the room.
“I believe it is”.
“Sir, I’m afriad”, a man’s voice wimpered. ‘I’m afriad’, like that statement had any validity to it. They had faced monsterous foes, fought neck and teeth for every inch of territory but still it wasn’t enough to be courageous. There wasn’t any point in saying otherwise, there wasn’t much time left.
“I know soldier, I’m afraid to”, the adjundant tried to interrupt but he cut him off swiftly.
“No, we have to be honest. There’s no point in putting on the facade for any longer. Men and women, yes I am afriad. We are all afriad. We have seen and experienced things the likes of which we will never see again. I may be a commissar but I am still human and like all of you I too am afraid. Tell me soldiers, do you know what makes a good commissar?”.
All the troopers stared blanked at him, his imposing voice cutting the increasing thumps surronding the room that were getting louder.
“Any commissar can persuade himself that he doesn’t fear what the enemies of man have to offer but a true commissar accepts he is afriad and doesn’t give his fear the satisfaction to exist by doing so. The moment we do so if the moment we become brave”.
A small murmur of agreement sounded around the room.
“Soldiers, I have served you long enough to know that we have lost all the possessions our regiment held sacred; our glorious dead, precious manpower and now our base. But if you think about it, we don’t have those anymore and we can’t carry them with us when we die. They were just a figment of our imaginations anyway”. A ripple of shouting bellowed in agreement.
“So you need to ask yourself? Will you succumb to fear, an illusion? or will you join me in showing that we can end what we started with honour and dignity?”. A roar erupted through the vault. It was followed by a smack against the vault wall as the ground shook. All the soldiers instinctively aimed their rifles at the door.

“I do not know if God is with us but all I know is all of us are humanity and through death, it will endure as it always has and always wil-

The speech was cut off by the vault door exploding.