I FEAR WHO NO FEAR MY GENDER.

<img src="/media/inline_insight_image/1c8b52950d5d3117730ff28a201c26c3.jpg" style="background-color: transparent;"/>I Fear Who No Fear My Gender "Fear women." Three words. Three words that have travelled from street corners to lecture halls, from WhatsApp statuses to Twitter trends, from beer parlours to church compounds.Sometimes they are said with laughter, regret and tears that refuse to fall.Every time another heartbreaking story appears online, someone types those familiar words. "Fear women."And almost immediately, another person replies, "What about men?"The argument begins. The blame shifts.The comment section becomes another battlefield where everyone is determined to defend their gender instead of confronting the real enemy.Who is the Real Enemy?Well! Permit me to unpack the game of chess I'm about to play in a mysterious way. Move by move, we'll uncover who the real enemy truly is.Here's a little spoiler: it isn't a man, and it isn't a woman.It is the mind and what we allow it to become.So, grab your popcorn, settle in, and journey with Eliza's Pen as we explore the thin line between pain and healing, revenge and justice, humanity and the choices that define us.So, for a long time, I watched these conversations like a spectator. Then one day, I stopped asking who was more dangerous. I started asking what makes people dangerous.That question changed everything.So today, permit me to borrow the popular saying and rewrite it.I fear who no fear my gender. Not because women are naturally wicked and also not because men are naturally cruel. But because I have lived long enough to know that pain has no preferred gender. Neither does greed, jealousy, pride and wickedness................................................................A few days ago, I watched a movie, this is not a movie review. It is a mirror.A mirror that quietly reflected something uncomfortable about human nature.There was a woman, everyone loves her because of her kindness. She gave without calculating what she would receive in return. If someone needed help, she showed up, if someone cried, she listened, lacked, she shared. She carried kindness as though it was stitched into her skin.Then she got married, like every woman who has ever fallen deeply in love, she imagined forever.She imagined tiny feet running through the sitting room, bedtime stories, birthdays, hearing a little voice call her "Mummy." She carried those dreams beneath her heart.Well, so she thought, unknown to her, the man she trusted had chosen greed over love. In his desperate pursuit of wealth, he sacrificed their unborn child for money rituals. The man she called her husband had secretly traded their unborn child for wealth.Money! Just money!! Pause there for a moment.Imagine discovering that the safest place you thought you had was actually the most dangerous.Imagine learning that the man who placed his hand on your stomach, smiled at you when you think of your unborn child and prayed that one day you will get pregnant and give me beautiful and handsome children had already chosen greed over both mother and child.Arghhhh!! How does anyone recover from that?Tell me!How?People often say time heals. I strongly disagree. Time merely teaches us how to carry wounds, some never leave, they simply become quieter.That cheerful woman disappeared, not physically but emotionally. The laughter became silence, softness became steel, the eyes that once carried hope now carried fire.She no longer wanted explanations, she wanted consequences.She wanted the man who buried her dreams to experience the same emptiness he had planted inside her. And honestly, who could blame her for feeling that way?Notice my words carefully.I said feeling not acting, because emotions and actions are not the same. Pain can explain a decision without excusing it.That distinction matters.Eventually, she set out to destroy the very thing her husband treasured most, what he is pursuing that makes him do that, his career, his reputation, everything he had spent years building. As I watched, I wasn't celebrating revenge, neither was I condemning her. I was simply watching pain change its clothes, because that was no longer the cheerful woman from the beginning of the story. That was grief wearing human skin.Ironically, the person who eventually stretched out a helping hand to her was someone she had once helped without expecting repayment.That scene stayed with me. Perhaps kindness never truly dies, every good deed is a seed that waits patiently for the right season to bloom. Sometimes the harvest comes when we least expect it.That movie ended.......................................But the questions did not. Instead, they followed me.Why do good people become dangerous?When does kindness become bitterness?At what point does love begin to resemble revenge?Perhaps the answers are closer than we think, you know ometimes we celebrate resilience without asking what it cost, we admire strength without noticing the scars beneath it. We call someone wicked without reading the chapters that came before the reaction.Again!I am not justifying wickedness. I am simply refusing to discuss the fruit while ignoring the root.Because roots matter. Yoruba adage will say, "Bí a bá fẹ́ pa èèrà, a gbọdó wá ibi tí wọ́n ti ń jáde." (If you want to eliminate ants, you must find where they are coming from.)Let us be honest with ourselves.Some men have turned women into shadows of who they used to be.Not every bruise is visible.Some men never raise a hand, yet they spend years raising fear. Some never slap, they manipulate, belittle, cheat repeatedly and call it "men being men." As how???? They promise forever while secretly planning <a class="tc-blue external-link" href="https://exits.They" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">exits.They </a> silence dreams because they confuse leadership with control. Some are so intoxicated by pride that love suffocates in their presence. A home becomes a prison. A wife becomes a prisoner. And somehow society still expects her to smile because "that is what good women do." Arghhhh! So annoying!Like wait, are serious, like really really serious, "that is what good women do?" You gotta be kidding me!No.Pain is not gendered.Neither is oppression. But before the women reading this begin to nod too confidently.Permit me to knock on your door too. Because some women have mastered another kind of violence. The violence that smiles, manipulates and weaponises tears.Some compete with their husbands instead of completing them, driven by jealousy so quietly that everyone around them eventually pays the price. Some destroy reputations with lies.Like, Kai!!Others use love as currency, affection becomes a reward, silence becomes punishment.Respect now becomes conditional. There are women who no longer seek peace, they seek victory. And there is a dangerous difference between the two.So.Who exactly should we fear?Men?Women?Or the darkness that grows inside an unhealed heart?That is a question everyone should answer, because the more I observe life, the less convinced I become that evil belongs to one gender.Character does not grow between our legs. It grows within our hearts.A broken man can become destructive.A broken woman can become destructive too.An insecure husband can poison a home.An insecure wife can poison it just as effectively.The face changes.The poison remains the same.Greed wears both trousers and skirts. Pride does too. Jealousy owns dresses and suits alike.So does kindness, compassion, forgiveness.Which means the real battle has never been between men and women. It has always been between light and darkness within every human heart.Maybe that is why I no longer rush to ask, "Who did this?" I first ask, "What happened to this person?" Because behind many monsters is a neglected wound, behind many manipulators is an untreated insecurity, behind many oppressors is an ego that was never challenged. Again!An explanation is not an excuse.But understanding is the beginning of wisdom.So yes, I still say it with confidence, with caution, and with deep reflection.I fear who no fear my gender.Not because women are monsters.Not because men are devils.But because human beings, when they surrender to greed, pride, jealousy and untreated pain, become capable of unimaginable things. The greatest danger has never been masculinity. Neither has it been femininity. The greatest danger is a heart that has stopped listening to its conscience. May we never become the kind of people our younger selves would run away from. May pain never convince us that revenge is healing. May success never make us arrogant. May betrayal never steal our humanity. And may we never become living proof that hurt people truly hurt people. Because at the end of it all the world does not simply needs a better man, neither does it simply needs better woman. It desperately needs better human beings. Perhaps then we will stop asking who to fear and start becoming people others no longer have to fear.

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