Poem About Sexism นิยาย & เรื่องราว

I bit the inside of my cheek, feeling ridiculous forever, accepting something so unfair. Henry was silent for a moment. Then he let out a dry, humorless laugh. “What an outdated, sexist mindset.” His voice dripped with disdain, but there was something deeper there—something real, something that genuinely unsettled him. He looked at me, his blue eyes flickering with an emotion I couldn’t quite decipher. “So many women have built empires and become brilliant CEOs. And your ex-husband kept you in the shadows?” I swallowed hard. His tone almost sounded personal.

I walked up the stairs and stood next to the co-ordinator. "Congrats. I'm sure your father is proud," he said giving me a handshake. He turned his attention to the lady on the other side of him and gave her a handshake as well as a few words. "Alright, to decide who plays as black and who plays as white, we will flip a coin." He looked to me and said, "You're heads." He looked to the lady, "You're tails." That's sexism. I mean yes it's in m favour but by saying I'm heads and she's tails, hes indirec6sayung that men are superior and therefore the head while women are below them being the tail- I'm just over-complicating things. Moving on.

My mom always told me once that flower has been taken, it will never be the same again. Why do men always think about sex? Life isn’t just about banging everything that walks on two legs. Men should learn to respect woman more for not wanting to have sex. On the other hand, some women are also like that. The less experience a man has, means he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Living in a fucked-up world is like living in a tiny fishbowl. The same thing over and over again. Not getting anywhere.

I commented irritated. -"Ι think my answer was clear. Women of your status don't work" he suddenly became serious. -"I do not care. I am not like the others. I want to do something productive". -"If you want to do something productive bear and raise a child" -"How sexist this sounds...." -"Oh don't tell me that you are like those crazy slovenly women who protest in streets. Don't tell me you are a feminist" he commented. -"What if I told you I was?" I asked mischievously.

Truth be told: If it were in a real competition, I would win with one hundred percent of the votes for the first place of a real bitch. But despite the very well accepted title, I did not fit the standards imposed by the sexist society whose air I was forced to share for years of my life.

There were not too keen on listening to a woman who is speaking about things that are predominantly a field of men. ‘Wow, talk about sexism and misogyny.’ I tried my hardest not to roll my eyes in front of them due to frustration. But it is evident that they will not listen to me no matter what. I already thought of pushing through and trying my best into making them to listen to me, but if we look through the history of humanity with regards to females and how they were treated--- that would be a far-fetched idea and I would be wasting my time.

“But I’d also bet that if you’re finding sex lacking, it’s a commentary on your partner, not you. It was true years ago and it’s true now.” Lexi frowned and tried to look stern, not prickly and strangely overwarm though she sat beneath a cozy blanket and was bundled up nicely against the cool breeze—unlike some people, who were bare chested and barefoot. “That’s a bit sexist, isn’t it?” “I’ve seen the men you date. So, no, it’s not sexist. It’s an informed opinion.” He did something with his face that made him look harder. Flintier, even. “And it’s not hard to make a man come, Lexi. That’s why it’s on him to make sure you do, or why bother to have sex with another person? He could just have

Besides, everyone on the internet claims that women lose their edge after marriage. "You're 28 now; you're basically 30, and menopause is just around the corner. The market is flooded with fresh, young talent. Why the hell should I keep you on the payroll?" The warmth had completely drained from my eyes. "My performance is unmatched," I stated apathetically. "You're a woman. For all I know, you got those clients in bed," he grumbled under his breath. "I'm highly capable." "No matter how capable you are, it doesn't change the fact that your boyfriend's the one running the department," he sneered.

People started echoing his words like it was a popular saying. “We aren’t your enemy,” I said. “We just want our women back. So we can breed with them.” I thought I’d put it in terms they could all understand. I got a lot of sympathetic nods from the crowd, including the females. You see, sexism isn’t all bad. Brings people together, as all of life’s basic urges do. We all need to eat, sleep and treat others like sex objects. It’s just nature, human or otherwise.

I lift my chin putting my hands on my hips like a stuck up ballerina princess. “I’m not them. I’m a proud woman who doesn’t need to stuff her breeches or measure anything to take care of a poor girl who’s being hurt.” I’m too high on my soap box, and or indignance to be afraid. As someone who’s struggled as much with sex, not to mention sexuality, morals and everything in between, I won’t let someone else go through all that if I can help it. “Just because you like women and not men, who could blame you, doesn’t mean your father can just sell you off to further line his silk pockets with gold thread!”