I sing these songs to my son.
Staring into the brightness of the night, watching the stars twinkle and the moon wiggling its tail to illuminate the earth’s gloominess, I time travel to the nearest future when I will behold a tiny hand in my hand.
A miniature version of me and mine; another gender, the other gender; a son, my son. What a time of rebranding. It is a time to retell the old tales with a new voice; a season to re-write the norms.
A time to groom a human not saddled with the burdens of societal stereotypes and exaggerated he-manliness, forced, to accept stakes heavier than he is ready to shoulder.
A human who will learn first to live for himself and not be pressured to accept and embrace common standards set for men to measure up to.
There are already sewn cloaks designed for alpha males, and all sons are expected to smuggle themselves into them, whether they fit them or not.
My son, you must learn to be comfortable in your own skin. So, listen and adhere to this song, sung with love.
Songs to my son
Today, a new son is born
Listen, son, Maa has something to tell you
I want to sing you a song, yes
songs to my son
Kwabena, my son
as I behold your cute face and
hold your tiny fingers in my large palms
my heart swells with happiness
my joy knows no boundaries
I feel proud and glad
Yet I can’t shut out this other feeling
The reality is that men don’t find it easy
This truth is not to make you dizzy
but to prepare your mind
that this life is a battleground
or men and women alike
Today,
it’s in your interest I want to speak
I quiver though not from fever
but from all the beats I’d love to re-drum
the lyrics I want to re-write
the sound that begs to have a new key
The narrative that has turned stale
Objectification has become a cliché
Here
Listen
to be a man,
they say
you have to try all means to provide for those in your care
both nuclear and extended
So, from childhood
a son learns without being told
that it is his responsibility to care
and not be taken care of
Who said men abhor care?
What sand were they moulded with that is resistant to tenderness?
Do you think men hate it?
Not until you try and see that
these creatures long to be cared for too
Son, you should be strong
hardworking and independent
One more thing you should learn
is not to do all these to the detriment of your sanity
Learn to do just what you can
don’t go beyond your limit
Or you will pay with your life
For every minute you live like this
your person slips and slides
You forget to appreciate moments
so gradually
your being turns into a living ghost
Hey
the world will barely notice your absence
even when they are the ones that forced your early departure
The only thing you owe them is a "one-minute silence"
So, son
to yourself be fair
If you ever get overwhelmed with emotions
and you want to let them out
remember to let it flow
I know they say men don’t cry
men who cry are viewed as weaklings
how they lie!
The truth is
for every human
be it man or woman
there lies a drum full of water
hung in the overhead tank of the eyes
Who said it’s taboo when a man rains his downpour?
Cry if it will make you feel better
It doesn’t make you weaker
It only helps to straighten your sagging shoulder
Son
in this house
my house
there are no gender roles
You do what has to be done!
Who said it's demeaning for male children to do chores?
Who said sweeping and cooking are for women alone?
Son
in this house
my house
you learn to be domesticated because
those skills are needed for healthy living
not gender-specific
You learn to cook
to save your life
you tidy your environment
for no child of mine will live like a garbage dump
You tidy up after you eat or sleep
That is the true living
Society breeds patriarchs who believe
that real power lies in owning a phallus
Son
your phallus distinguishes your gender
but doesn’t make you superior to another
The real power lies in treating others
just the way you’d love to be treated
Know this and know peace
They said to be a man
is to master the techniques of speaking to no one
when your head is full and needs relief from another
keep it within they say
cause to be a man
is to be sworn into the cult of
"speak less and think more"
so you learn to bury your ideas
within the withering folds of your brain
You're longing for help but they have
made you believe
that unveiling your fear makes you vulnerable
The truth is that
absolute helplessness lies in you not mastering
the techniques to speak what needs to be spoken
Son
Kasa
Speak
Soro!
Speak when speaking can lessen your burden
Never allow the world and its standards
to swear you to mundane secrecy
All because you want to promote
the world’s ideal manliness
Son
my son
In all things, you should
first and most importantly
be human
Nothing matters more than humanity
not femininity, not masculinity
Whatever you know should be done
and it's within the confines of your ability
please do
Not to feel accepted
not to prove relevance
but to show
that in all that you would ever be
the first is to be human
All you long for others to do for you
May it be your utmost determination
to do for them first
Be that change you long to see in others
Be that hope that flickers when nothing else glitters
Be that sun that shines when the storm rests its torrents
Be that peace that permeates turmoil
Be true without the decoy
In all
be my son
and this song
sing too
to your son
