There Problem with Equality

“All humans are equal in God’s eyes,”

“God has created us all as equals,”

I beg to differ.

I don’t think there’s a lot of truth to this. Perhaps, God wherever he is, whatever he is, does consider us all equal, and did intend for his creation to be equal, but look at us. If equality was the intention, have we met the requirement, or have we surpassed all limits to ensure, that there is at least one person, if no one else, then only one person in the world in unequal?

I propose it’s the latter.

Let’s talk about color. Are we forever doomed to judge each other on the basis of the color of their skin? Read the sentence again, and think how ridiculous this notion is. Rather than bask in the glory of diversity, rather than grasp the beauty in difference, we condemn anyone who does not meet standards set centuries ago. We’ve been taught white is better than black, or brown, or yellow. We release whitening creams into society, encourage both men and women to use them. From early childhood, I was a loved child. The complexion of my skin tone was rather light, and I soon realized my elders, teachers, and relatives often treated me better than those of my age with darker skin.

Somewhere along the way, I found out that this darker skin tone was considered dirty, unwanted, impure, and no, this isn’t an exaggeration.

This is a shocking truth that I still cannot comprehend. Then, as I grew up, my skin became tanned, and I wasn’t the loved child anymore. As a result of puberty, my skin was no longer as soft as a baby’s bottom, nor was it unblemished. Like many of my peers, I also began to check my skin every day for pimples and acne, over which I had no control. Later, in my academic career and interaction with people, I discovered that people preferred the friends whose complexions were fairer than my own. This wasn’t just happening to me either, it was happening to everyone who had the misfortune to be of a darker complexion that what was desirable. Soon, people began to ask me the same question,

“You were so cute as a child, so radiant, so white. What happened to you? Let me recommend this excellent remedy…”

I was made to feel uncomfortable in my own skin, as people passed over me to converse with my friends, who had lighter complexions.

Let’s consider the hotly contested gender quality. There shouldn’t even be a debate pertaining to equality between genders. We’re all humans and it should end with that, but can you deny the discrimination the girl child has to face from an early death to the day she dies? The life of caution, maintaining facades and dignity, protecting our virtue, living by the rules of men, dictated, controlled, abused by men, it becomes all too much. I know I don’t want to live this way.

If I speak up, I am hastily quietened in fear of my father’s wrath, for he is the head of my patriarchal family, and I must not anger him. He can “give me away” to someone who might never let me see the light of the day. He might pull me out of school – as far too many girls are – he may strangle me in my own bed, to protect his honor.

It barely even matters what the females of this world can achieve, what they may speak up for or against, because it all comes down to their breasts, and vagina, to their reproductive ability, motherhood, and household chores. A woman is meant to give birth to and take care of her children, and satisfy the needs of her husband. What about dreams, aspirations, goals, pleasure, success, spirituality, depth? Can all that be invalidated, for the whims of men who wish to steer women on the leash at their command?

Do I even need to talk about the Trans community? Look at how they are cast away, treated like untouchables. It breaks my heart every time I witness a Trans man or woman, or non-binary, being abused on the streets when they beg, because they don’t have a home to go to, no father to pay their bills, and no school to educate them. A part of my soul dies when their abused bodies are displayed on some news channel to gain ratings, when in reality nobody really cares what happens to them, they’re just glad they fit into one acceptable gender. I am part of the problem, because I’m too quiet, and that makes me complicit in the crimes we of the perfect genders have committed against our people.

As for religion, talking about it can have me killed in this country, can have me disowned, or sold, or locked up, either in a jail or in my own house, but because I’m a female it may not be so different after all. From one gilded cage into another, my sisters are sold in the name of parents fulfilling their religious rights to their daughters. A female’s fate is doomed every time a signature is forced on a contract, and money is exchanged behind backs. Your religion is safe as long as you don’t question it, keep your head down, and blindly follow instructions, because that’s the way it is. Your quest to God is the business of every individual you come across, blood relative or stranger, it doesn’t matter. I won’t speak anymore, the noose of blasphemy might be swinging in wait for me, excited to squeeze itself tighter and tighter around my neck, until the breath gushes out of me, and I am no more.

As for love, you can love whoever you want as long as you’re a man. As long as that person doesn’t challenge your upbringing and traditions, if the person is liked by your parents, it’ll all be okay. However, it’s incorrect to assume this would be a person. Person would mean the gender identity can be fluid, but that’s not the way it works, the person must be the opposite gender. They can’t be from another religion, or race, or color, or caste, or nation. But there are still a lot of people you can choose from that limited sample. However, if you’re a female, love will hurt your family’s reputation, and instead of a white wedding dress, you’ll be buried in a white shroud.

There is no equality in this world, and no amount of protesting can change it.