Does Equality Really Exist?

Writing

I ask myself this question as I’m swiftly ushered out of my own workplace by rather hench looking security guards an hour earlier than I should be, because an A-list celeb is coming in shortly to do a quick Q+A session on the release of their new album and no stragglers must be lurking round corners trying to get a quick pic with the megastar.

 

Not that I’m complaining about leaving work early, as if! But instead, I’m questioning the value placed on me – the staff member as oppose to the visitor – a temporary guest. Am I not worthy of seeing them in the flesh? Am I not worthy of breathing the same air as them? I know we’d like to believe that it’s actually because we they don’t want some psycho stalker maniac fan getting too close so they filter the Q+A audience to avoid this, but a part of me struggles to believe the reason is solely this. Am I simply not valued as highly as the celebrity? How can you say we’re equal if they’ve flown in on private jet, have been chauffeured around all day and now have most of the workplace exiting for the evening?

 

I have no issue with the celeb by the way, they’re just doing their thing, but moreso with society on how we value one person more than another. This sadly is truth. We live in a world where we want to believe that everyone has an equal shot at success, were everyone has manners and respect, treating everyone equally and fairly. Not to be a Debbie downer but I don’t think this is 100% the case, infact I would go as far to say that it’s not even 50%.

 

I think the ugly truth of the matter is that it comes down to what qualities do we truly value in people? Intelligence, good looks, athleticism, wealth…..? Atleast this seems to be the case in the society I live in. But what about morals and altruism? Are they characteristics of the weak, the overly sensitive? Why are they overlooked?

 

From rags to riches, to cultural classes, throughout our lives we are categorised in terms of our quality/value. As we are individuals, can it therefore be said that each of us have different qualities or even further, different levels of quality? Is a murderer, in your eyes, equal to a doctor, the Queen equal to the commoner, woman equal to man? Civil partnership equal to marriage?

 

If we are so similar in our qualities are we so similar in our flaws? Is killing one person not as bad as killing several? Is killing an animal lesser than that of a human? Are animals equal to humans? 

 

There are so many questions surrounding this idea of ‘equality’, afterall it is just an idea. Because if we were all treated as equal, I wouldn’t be sitting here writing this post an hour early.

 

Am I just feeling sorry for myself? Do you think equality exists?

The Inferior Female

Writing

Stature slender,

Pitch higher.

A non-male gender,

So he must be higher.

 

Physically inferior,

Sit still and look pretty.

Don’t question the superior,

You’ll only look silly.

 

Beauty over brains.

Man over beauty.

I’m not a feminist,

But a minority of men give me reason I should be.

 

Are you threatened by my ability?

I know power incites greed.

Don’t you encourage a bit of competition,

From someone who doesn’t have something swinging between their knees?

 

Oh little men,

Of Mice and Men,

Are you really a man or a mouse?

I hope the rat race has served you well, with the car, the cash, and the house.

 

But what about the love from a woman?

Afterall, without a female, you would have no life.

Even if your mother didn’t love you enough,

Then perhaps maybe does your wife?

 

Let me be clear in my intentions,

No gender is better than another.

I have mentioned what I have mentioned,

Because recently I’ve been stung by the male gender.

It’s only the minority that will ever incite hate.

This poem is highlighting the bed that they’ve made.

 

No gender is better than another,

Whether you’re female, male, non-binary or trans.

I feel the majority of us are not sexist to eachother.

I really do hope you will agree with that.

 

The poem above was written from a place of hurt and discontent. In the last couple of weeks I have had several encounters with men who have treated me inferiorly.

How would you feel when going into a shop to buy a water bottle and being told in a non-joking manner that you should do ‘phone sex’ by the till keeper? Or being called a ‘stupid bitch’ because I couldn’t hear what a window cleaner was saying?

 This poem is not to highlight that I feel all men mistreat women. Good men, which do exist,  certainly do not mistreat women or any gender for that matter. But I felt the need to share my annoyance by the small few that do. The poem is a way to get it off my chest.

Thank you for reading.