are you (wo)man enough?

Are you man enough for this?

I heard the echoes of the hushed ridicule of the wind. I stood beneath the mountain I was supposed to climb and reach its peak. It loomed over me—taunting me to brave this expedition. Yet this was no ordinary expedition, it executed the women that came before me and the women I knew over and over again.

But if I refused to take the first step, then what would that make of me? They'll think I'm weak, like I'm below them and easily trampled on just because I am a girl.

I can't have that thought instilled in their minds.

For a second, I stood motionless with a face holding a note of reluctance. It was terrifying and there was no going back, but I must not prove them right. So a beat passed, with a breath in and out; finally, I started climbing up the daunting mountain.

Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

Left. Right. Left. Right.

The sound of my heels against the rocks rang across the desolated wreck, each step getting steeper. My hands gripped what I could as I hung on for dear life, carefully so as to avoid falling right from the beginning of my odyssey.

Just like every challenge, it started off easy, and I figured that nothing could stand in my way after all. Oh how foolish I was to believe such a thing.

I felt fingers being pointed at me, their laughs lingering in the air as they jeered at me altogether—as if I'm some sort of an anomalous being. They howled with mockery, sitting on their thrones like they were respectable kings that ruled the land.

And yet they were nothing but rabid animals. They picked at my skin, desperate to get their hands on me one way or another—like a pack of vultures in a feast.

The ceaseless weight was too much to bear as they collectively tried to pull me down, back to where they think I belong. Under their watchful eyes that study my every move—like a ticking time bomb—they're waiting for me to crack. It would be a sweet treat to see a woman finally fall from her grace.

Who said I was going to delight them with that pleasure?

So with great force, I pushed myself up to continue climbing to reach the top.

I may not possess magic like Scarlet Witch, or conjure any power like Supergirl and Wonder Woman, but we all have one thing in common: it's being a woman in a society that drags you down and rips you apart until you're bare and nothing.

I am incredibly tired, but how could I give up now when a whole line of women depends on me?

I can't fail them. I won't fail them.

The vultures will get their execution, and I will bring my women to honor.

For what had felt like an eternity, the expedition ended in the blink of an eye. I have trekked and climbed what once was known as impossible. I was finally on the peak of the mountain.

I saw the crowd of rabid animals beneath me. They reeked of odium while they bellowed their loathing—but they couldn’t reach me up here.

I sold and dedicated my own soul for my life's work, yet somehow I was labelled as a devil for merely picking and carrying myself up.

If I were a man, they wouldn't even paint me as a villain. If I were a man, they wouldn't question my worth. I wouldn't have to appear as cold and calculated just to earn their respect. Surely, I wouldn't have suffered as much as I did if I were a man, for I would've been treated as equal.

“Are you man enough for this?”

The question looped in my mind. I halted in my tracks, an answer already in my tongue:

Perhaps not, because despite all that, I am woman enough to reach the top.

Article: Denise Nicole Bate Paulino

Graphics/Illustrations: Glaciane Kelly