Why is it always the woman, why not the man?

Why Is It Always the Woman, Why Not the Man? Why is it always the woman, they cry, Whose heart bears the weight of the world’s heavy sigh? Why not the man, with his strength and his will, Step to the fire, share the load, stand still? The question burns bright, like a spark in the night, A challenge to norms that have dimmed human light. For too long the scales have been tipped to one side, Leaving women to carry what men let subside. In the annals of time, roles were carved deep in stone, Patriarchs ruled, set the world’s ancient tone. Women, the keepers of hearth and of kin, Wove life’s soft threads while men ventured to win. The hunt, the field, the coin’s clinking call, Men claimed the world, while women held all— The home, the heart, the unspoken demand, To nurture, to mend, with a tireless hand. But why, in this age, when the old ways should fade, Does the woman still bear the debts never paid? The dishes, the diapers, the tears softly dried, The birthdays remembered, the fears set aside. She’s the weaver of peace, the mender of seams, The keeper of moments, the builder of dreams. Yet the man, often spared, walks a lighter road, Unburdened by duties that women are owed. Society whispers, its voice sharp and clear, Through ads and old tales that we’re taught to revere. The woman, it says, is the heart’s gentle guide, Her patience, her grace, are her duty, her pride. The man, cast as stoic, his heart locked away, Is freed from the labor of love’s day-to-day. A mother’s misstep draws a judgmental stare, While a father’s small effort wins praise everywhere. Why not the man, with his heart just as wide, Take up the load, stand by her side? Why must she carry the weight of the years, The unspoken grief, the invisible tears? The world paints her role with a soft, tender hue, But the brushstrokes are heavy, the colors untrue. For every task she’s expected to do, A man could step forward, his hands able too. From childhood, the lessons are sown in our minds, Girls taught to nurture, to always be kind. Boys learn to conquer, to stand tall and bold, While empathy’s weight is left for girls to hold. These seeds grow to habits, to roles we obey, Women give all, while men turn away. Not from malice, perhaps, but from what they’ve been told— That strength lies in silence, not hearts that unfold. The toll is not small, for the woman who bears The second shift’s grind, the unending cares. After work’s long hours, she comes home to more— The laundry, the meals, the emotional chore. Burnout creeps softly, a thief in the night, Stealing her joy, dimming her light. Yet men, too, lose something in this rigid frame, Locked out of love’s warmth by a masculine name. Why not the man, with his soul just as deep, Hold the child’s hand, sing the weary to sleep? Why not share the burden, the joy, and the pain, Let both hearts be open to sunshine and rain? The question demands that we look to the core, Of why we accept what was set long before. It’s not just her fight, but a call for us all, To rise, to rethink, to answer the call. To change this old story, we must start anew, Teach boys and girls what is human, not “due.” Let empathy bloom in each heart, young and old, Let caregiving cease to be gendered, controlled. Policies, too, must shift with the tide— Equal leave for parents, no roles to divide. Let media sing of men tender and strong, Who cradle, who listen, who right what is wrong. The world must unlearn its old, tired refrain, That women alone bear the heart’s heavy chain. Let men step forward, their hands open wide, To share in the labor, to stand side by side. For equity’s promise is not hers alone, But a gift to us all, in the seeds we have sown. Why is it always the woman, they say? Let’s make it both, and start today. The question’s a mirror, reflecting our flaws, A chance to rewrite the world’s ancient laws. No more “just women” to carry the load, No more “just men” on a separate road. Together we labor, together we mend, The heart of the world where all burdens blend. Why is it always the woman, why not the man? Let both hold the future in the palm of their hand.

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