The Prison of Gender

She wakes up in the morning, and before the sun even touches her skin, she already carries a weight no one else sees: the weight of being a woman, the invisible burden of expectations, the demands that never made sense but have always been there, sharp as blades pressed against her skin.

We look in the mirror and see our own skin—raw, natural, unchallenged. But when we look at women, there’s a filter. An unspoken code that dictates the rules. A woman must be this. A woman must be flawless. A woman must be a sculpture on display, carved for someone else’s desire.

And we rarely ask: why?

We never ask why our body hair is freedom while theirs is a flaw.

We never ask why our skin can be rough, but theirs must be polished like marble.

We never ask why our imperfections are human while theirs are defects.

In this absence of questions, we cement a world where an impossible standard traps women. The natural is sculpted until it hurts and bleeds, and discomfort becomes the norm. And when they dare exist outside these rules, the punishment comes—reproachful glances, quiet corrections, disapproval disguised as opinion.

But the prison we built for them has bars that hold us, too.

How can there be intimacy where there is so much demand?

How can there be surrender when one of us is the judge and the other the accused?

How can there be love when one side dictates the rules of the other’s body?

It’s not the hair on her skin that destroys relationships.

It’s the invisible weight of our expectations.

It’s the prison of our beliefs.

It’s the lack of empathy in the position of the judge.

This weekend, the world “celebrated” International Women’s Day.

And what did we do?

Hand out flowers while keeping the chains in place?

Offer compliments that barely mask judgment?

Post tributes while still demanding that they shape themselves, correct themselves, and make themselves more acceptable?

None of that is enough.

What we should have done was stop. Stay silent.

Press our hands against the cold metal of the bars we helped build and feel their weight.

Sit with the discomfort of knowing we benefit from a system that dehumanizes the very people we claim to love.

Because a healthy relationship isn’t built on impossible demands.

It is built on freedom, respect, and courage to see others as they are.

And maybe that is the only liberation any of us truly deserve.