Wanted to share a short story/play I wrote. Its about how we can change this sexist reality we live in.

in writing •  8 years ago 

First Act

A worn-out compliment falls out from the construction worker's mouth and rises, stubborn, into the girl's ear.
It travels through her eardrums and reaches the brain. The words become stimulus, synapses, disgust and memory. Then they are deposited in the cold and gloomy pit of impotence. If one day the well overflows, then lewd compliments, insolent caresses, butcher looks, threats, stereotypes and hatred will come in a blind tide.
But it will be too late then. So many years of enduring it, you have become insensitive to its stench. "That's the way the world smells," you'll think, "I'm just one and they're so many." And you shall bathe your children and your daughters with that same stench. Without realizing it you will continue the rite that you have inherited.

Second Act

A worn-out compliment falls out from the mouth of a father who walks with his son and climbs, stubbornly, into the girl's ear. It also rises into the child’s ear who, until that moment, believed to see in her all the beauty of the world. But not anymore.

The words travel through his eardrums and reach the brain where they become stimulus, synapse, surprise and memory. Then they are deposited in that solid chest where the values are stored. Inside are the playing moments while his sisters washed clothes, the best part of the chicken, the front seat of the car, mom’s face that time dad didn’t like the cake, that midnight when once again the screams cushioned the crying.
He will grow up steeped in prejudices, his hands clenched into fists, and tears will dry in his hermetic lairs.

Third Act
A worn-out compliment falls out from the mouth of a father who walks with his son.
In its slithering through the sidewalk is intercepted by a young man who lifts it up and looks at it in the eye. It’s of no use wrapping around his wrist, or sinking its fangs into the skin. He is immune to its venom, something more powerful runs through those veins.

The young man approaches the father and returns his compliment, which has lost its power.
He approaches the child and caresses, lovingly, his hair. The kid sees all the beauty of the world in her again.
The man approaches the girl and apologizes, for him, for me, for everyone.

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