The Gears Are Ours

I don't think men

are doing enough

to clear their gender’s name

of the stain that is

misogyny and worse.

I don't think women

are mad enough

to grind the

gilded gears of society

to a halt.

Because,

in the end,

those gears are ours.

As long as the gears

keep turning,

new life flows.

Refuse to grind

and everything

stops.

No sons.

No daughters.

No empire

grows.

_______________

This is not a poem about hating men or blaming women.

It is about the way systems survive by teaching ordinary people to fight each other instead of recognizing their shared power.

Yes. People are fighting oppression.

Yes. People are standing up.

Yes. We march, we make our voices heard.

But we do it divided.

The gears belong to all of us.

Those “gears” are the labor, love, care, bodies, time, and participation that ordinary people give to society every day.

If enough people stop feeding these machines, they eventually stop turning.

Not without resistance—nothing built on power ever falls quietly.

But anything worth changing is worth uniting for.

Together, people built the world as it is.

Together, people can change it.