Better Man

 

Now you are a better man,

Because you found spirituality in a foreign land.

But aren’t you the one who shamed me once,

Claiming I was “old enough” and should have watched porn?

Why? Because being a woman who made food with love wasn’t enough?

Do you think I needed to be “cool” to have a man?

That after every objectifying glance,

I had to shape myself—quirky tees, muted dreams,

Just to be a shadow of what you demand?

You labelled me a gold digger—way to go, divine coder.

Was I afraid to ask or learn because I wasn’t a nine-pointer?

Shy, not assertive—was that my crime?

When I wasn’t sure if I could speak my mind?

You enjoyed more freedom and independence than me,

But can you even relate to that disparity?

I dreamed of strength, of standing tall,

Long before I understood these walls.

Now you felt violated when someone touched you without consent,

But I’ve carried that burden since I was a child—

Do you really think I’m fragile? Weak?

Do you know what goes on in the back of a woman’s mind?

Every step I take, I calculate:

"Hopefully, he doesn’t rape me or kill."

How much of my mind is consumed by that?

And yet, you say girls lack intelligence—imagine that.

You wear the badge of a better man,

Preaching love as if it’s yours to teach.

But do you see the chains I broke,

The world I navigated, without a map or reach?

Yes, I wore pain like armour,

Yes, I learned silence to survive.

But I was never weak, never lesser—

I’ve always been alive.

So call yourself a better man,

But understand, I was never just a woman

Made for your convenience or plan.