Now, in a time where women across the world are rallying forth, I return to the blank canvas that has been the only balm to emotional upheaval.
Growing up with a toxic male presence in my life, I've always thought that I would find those that would be different, however in reflection, I have probably not been successful. The state of masculinity is in itself a blindfold; the women must always cope and then give recognition for the male's nugatory attempt at coming to the rescue. She must not only deal with the weight of her own heart but must expend further energy in pretending to be happy simply to satisfy his attempts at making her so. The tired trope of damsel in distress is simply that: a ruse for amping that so-called chilvarous ego for which the female must summon superfluous energy to assuage it.
The many-armed figure of that female goddess is in this way accurate: in every day routine the female counterpart must juggle myriad tasks, duties, obligations, and still keep safe that fragile ego of the male. For, in all the privilege of his being, he cannot.