70x7

I think I used to expect protection from men. That within them existed the natural inclination to do what they were designed to do. That there existed some modicum of integrity and honesty within their hearts and upon their lips. And then I lived. And I realized that I had to protect me.

I wrote these words over two months ago one evening as the sting of past memories caused a convulsion of my heart. And more recently when I thought my thoughts had been cured of their venomous aim towards men, I realized they were still there. Breathing, lurking, waiting for an opportunity to remind me that with you I seldom felt safe.

You failed us. From the moment we left our mothers’ wombs we longed for you to be our new covering. We desired the security of your presence, the comfort of your touch, the assurance of your love, and the guidance of your voice. And when we were held at an arm’s length instead of within what they could have given us, we searched to fulfill what you left barren.

In the arms of this man, in the bed of that one. We just wanted to be held like the girl who remained broken inside us. Your words and smiles were promises soon ungratified.

So many of us, so few of you. We became cattle for consumption. Instead of a loyal watchdog, you became a ravenous wolf that devoured our souls and spirits. We were bones tossed in the graveyards that our wombs and beds had become.

Too many nights we laid in them wetting our pillows with tears, staring at our phones for your call that never came. You shattered us. You walked away with pieces of us and left us with none of you.

How could you? How could you?

I’ve thought about that and realized you’re just as fragmented and marred as we.

You watched us as little boys every time he cheat us and every time he beat us. We stayed. So you learned there are rewards for bad behavior. And then we turned around and praised you for the very things that left us bruised by other men.

Yeah, we took you to church but we failed to give you a living example of what One looked like. Somehow our prayers from the other bedroom weren’t louder than the absent footsteps of your dad. Our voices not more persuasive than those around you a thousand times stronger that told you your manhood was found in body counts and crippled hearts.

And what could we say to be more impactful? They looked like you; they were men. The silhouettes of the dads you wanted approval and affirmation from. We never quite understood the value you placed on honor even if it was for a dishonorable purpose.

You learned our rivalry rivaled that of Rachel and Leah. Like vultures, we tore each other apart. You didn’t have to fight for us because we fought each other for you. So few of you, so many of us. We became our sister’s competition just for your attention.

We heard men like Samson and David were defenseless. One look at our bodies and out went all of your defenses along with your senses. And so we used our anatomy in exchange for your love. And you used yours for its physical purpose. Only one of us won.

We cut you every time we cut your reflection with our words. You’re just like him. No good, good for nothing. All you men are the same.

I’m sorry.

Like my stunted child, you were the little boy no one cried for. They didn't hold you either. But from my perspective, you were a hollow and hardened shell. I thought you didn't bleed. I thought your heart didn't beat. You were callous and I returned it in equal measure.

But the truth is you were just as wounded and misguided as me. It’s just that I told you to suck it up, be a man, and never let a tear be seen. Now all I long for is your presence and vulnerability.

I wonder if we can talk. I wonder if we can heal. I wonder if I can be better for me and you. And you be better for you and me.

I found a way. I stopped looking for you to be something I had yet to become – perfect love. You’re not my Savior. You need Him too. So I forgive you.

+Dedicated to my friend who reminded me men have feelings too. I'm so sorry I hurt you - in this season and a year ago today too. Thank you for restoring my belief that men like you still exist - men built and willing to protect.