For the Drug Addict in the Northern Areas of Gqeberha (Port Elizabeth)

We are living in a Renaissance, the African Renaissance. Attachment to the anticipation for the future arises from having high levels of a false construct that is held deeply within our core, where our personality resides, and rooted in our consciousness. Addiction arises from need, the need for freedom. The addict needs love. They get unconditional love, self–worth, a feeling of no regrets, self-love, love of self that is unselfish, all-encompassing kind of love and self-acceptance from the ‘fix’. The addict needs to feel accepted despite the mistakes they have made in the past. If and when the past does not exist for the addict they feel safe.

They begin to self-regulate their nervous and auto-immune system. The addict wants control. They want to control the high, the elation they receive from the substance they are consuming recklessly, without any thought to the injury they are doing to their brain. Does the addict live in the past, constantly bringing up painful memories from a conditioned childhood that they had no control over? It is a form of insanity to live in the past. This is a simple and profound statement that leads to understanding what Deepak Chopra said, that addiction has to do with karma. All humanity has a higher intelligence.

This exists in the animal world as well. You cannot escape now. The addict exists in the past. They relive past trauma, adverse childhood experience. There is an attempt to control the pain, the thoughts of the environment they found themselves in as a child where the trauma took place, the persons who hurt them as a child, adolescent or adult. Addiction arises from the mentality and mindset of having not received access to love from the same-sex parent or either parent and not having received adequate care, concern and unconditional love from parent, authority figures like a teacher, uncle, aunt, grandmother or grandfather, elder, church leader. Nobody asks what the addict needs. The addict requires a life of intention. They need to cultivate habits that will restore and renew good health, a sound mind and body. They understand on a subtle level that addiction will lead to their downfall in society, overdose and even death.

Therapy can lead to a happier existence for the addict, talk therapy, joining a support group, receiving support from a loving and attentive partner who is an effective listener, and believing in a religion. They need the company of a good friend or friends that they can participate in meaningful activities with who is also an effective listener and who offers them support. There are tools that are instrumental for our survival and communication. For example, our thoughts, emotions and feelings are part and parcel of that survival.

The now is what we experience in the present tense, the fleeting moment that  is gone in a second and that can never be replaced. Change and transformation can take place in the drug addict’s life but only with the loyal support of their family. Isolating the drug addict will never work because they too need a community (see promiscuity, sexual misbehavior, rape, gangs, gangsterism and gun violence). Religion also has its role to play in the foundation and education of the psychological framework of the individual. Healing and recovery can take place. It is the addiction that is the residual effect of abnormal thinking, incorrect habits cultivated over time and brain damage. The addict’s brain is indeed damaged and not just by the abuse of substances but by not adopting society’s norms and not living by and accepting religious values and views, and ideas.

The notion of time is ever-present at the back of our minds as we, the human race, humanity, chart our course in this world. The world a drug addict lives in is a world that is unpredictable. The addict feels unsafe, deeply unloved, misunderstood, misrepresented, rejected, isolated and alienated from his peer group, his contemporaries. They face self-doubt and insecurity on a daily basis. For the most part they are unemployed, although there are individuals who suffer from and crave illegal substances who try to go out into the world and seek gainful employment. There is a stigma that exists in modern society against a drug addict in recovery. People feel they cannot trust a drug addict and that they haven’t really changed. They are just going to steal to support their drug addiction.

With aging comes grace and acceptance. Acceptance is a key equivalent to love, and so are accepting our past, accepting our shared history with family members, siblings, parents, aunts and uncles and cousins. I believe there is a genetic code within all of us that pre-empts what is going to happen in our lives but nevertheless human choice, individual choice, and the choice of the collective, the choices we make, whether good or bad, choices that give us, our brain, our physical bodies cellular networks, our psychological framework and network negative or positive feedback can also inspire the lives we lead at the end of the day.

What the drug addict wishes to do by taking, imbibing, consuming, injecting, abusing the illegal substance or buying over the counter prescription medication is to mask, veil, cover the trauma they were exposed to, experienced or witnessed, whether it was verbal, emotional, physical or sexual assault. I state this explicitly. The community can help. It starts with the family unit. Listening, accepting, talking, not rejecting, and not isolating the drug addict, because isolation can result in suicide ideation, relapse and hospitalization (a long period away from home). The drug addict comes from a dysfunctional family unit/background, a weak family unit. The drug addict possesses intelligence. They know and sometimes acknowledge that they are harming themselves. Addiction affects the entire family.

Bemoaned

The dripping drizzle of first summer dawn
The leftover pansies bloomed to its core 
I sang my morning symphonies 
Under the Greenberg oak 
The saddle of lost promised land 
The beaded sanctuary 
Waiting to be engulfed
A waning stormy moon
To questions and narrated agonies
A sea storm rained over 
Purging silhouettes under it's dark cavern
It bemoaned a devilish streak 
As if hanging under the churches of revelation
The green oaked smile 
Spoke to me
Its hands are gripping wet a cement of laugh 
A lull under the southern choir. 

I Will Conquer

I unto myself have drained

From the soul, from the heart, not from any face that perceives itself with courage

but one that does so with cowardice.

White on black, black on white, it does not matter, we are all failures,

floating, falling, feeling the fresh hell that we inflict unto ourselves.

I am not a cynic, I am a sinner, and sin is simply the consequence of a complex mind not yet whitewashed by the weight of their words has been freed by the burden

of pure reason.

Dear Diary, I am beginning to find that in fact I was made to be broken

For somehow I cannot look in an unfractured mirror without seeing a fractured face staring back at me, and why fractured if not with reason, why fractured if not so I may one day stitch my wounds again?

So, holy conqueror, I invite you.

I invite you to rise from the perch which they tell me you hold in the heavens

And show unto me your true face,

And once you have done so you may tear me apart, limb from limb,

For I myself am divine and seem to threaten the power you hold.

Wide is your reach, Heavenly Father,

Yet shallow is the depth of your teachings, soulless is the nature of your sermons, and what they tell me is clean and holy I have found to be cursed and reeking of filth.

Let these words be my last if their nature incites your rage

And merely my most meaningless if the deity unto which I speak them has no ears to hear, as I believe He does not.

He has turned a blind eye to the wasted earth from which he has left his children to feed,

And furthermore so ancient and archaic is he

That he has gone deaf,

Deaf to the cries and to the pleas so oft spoken from dry and dirt-coated lungs

To fix this charred and barren wasteland

And restore it to the glory which it once held but no longer mirrors.

So this is my promise,

My solemn oath unto those whom Thou hath so wrongly forsaken,

Delivered in Thy place but not in Thy name.

I shall take up arms and conquer.

I shall build an army of the most unorthodox ideals yours knows for mine knows

no bounds, no bonds, no inhibitions and no prohibitions.

No longer will I look upon my own face with cowardice –

I will look upon my face with courage and yours with disgust and disdain

For it now falls to me and those whose love truly is unconditional

And those who do as they preach

And those who preach as they do

And those whose behaviors do not sorely contradict their beliefs

To take up our arms

And bring this world the holy water

Or perhaps the unholy water

Which it so desperately needs to rebuild.

No longer will I look upon my own face with cowardice –

I will look upon my face with courage and yours with disgust and disdain

For this I promise –

I

will conquer.

I remember years later working the day bar getting a call from a Florida police detective and how the line was disconnected.

I remember how the call came through again and the detective said I am putting Vera on the line.

I remember that Vera was my step-mother’s sister and she was around 90 and probably never used a cell phone before in her life.

I remember how the line got disconnected again as soon as she came on.

I remember knowing the phone would ring again and I figured she was calling to tell me Dorrie had died in the nursing home where she was currently residing.

I remember finally keeping the connection and Vera telling me, “Bill is dead and you need to come down here right away.”

I remember Bill was my father.

I remember thinking, despite heart issues my father wouldn’t be the first to go.  

I remember thinking Vera was going to tell me that Dorrie had died from her cancer.

I remember thinking, not for the first time, show’s what I know.

I remember that was the Spring and  Summer of spending six weeks in Florida and not getting any closer to a beach that a crematorium in Daytona.

I remember the first time I saw a blue tattoo in the city at a market with my mother.

I remember my mother telling me that was a phony mark.

I remember I was just a kid but I knew, instinctively, that couldn’t be right.  

I remember, many years later, all the things she told me that were the opposite of what they really were.  

I remember thinking her delusion was a defense mechanism to conceal information she couldn’t process.  

I remember wondering if there was a correlation in her well-diagnosed mental illnesses with Trump’s undiagnosed ones.

I remember how young I looked when I was eighteen.

I remember how young I looked when I was thirty.

I remember the last time I had my proof checked I was forty-four years old.

I remember the summer of my junior year getting my proof checked to see ”My Sister, My Love.”

I remember it sucked.

I remember seeing “Belle de Jour” at the Stanley in Utica and taking turns making up sex scenes to describe to the legally blind guy we had taken with us.

I remember being squeezed in the back of a Triumph driving from Utica to Syracuse in the middle of Winter to see “Carmen Baby.”

I remember, except for one scene, it sucked too, but not as bad as “My Sister, My Love.”

I remember “I Am Curious Yellow.”

I remember being curious what all the fuss was about.

I remember thinking I’d almost like to see it again and find out what the hell they were talking about.

I remember seeing “Last Tango in Paris” and except for the bloody suicide what an absolutely great movie that really didn’t need that graphic sex scene which was only a distraction in a otherwise masterful acting performance.  

I remember thinking, I know why they included it and that people were bent out of shape for all   the wrong reasons.

7-

I remember Sounds of Silence

I remember Mellow Yellow.

I remember the first time I saw Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony Live.

I remember how my heart almost stopped when the chorus stood up in their white robes and began the Ode to Joy.

I remember my youngest son’s third grade teacher being in the chorus and how he died such an unnecessary self-immolation death  and the poem I wrote “The Burning Song Book.”

I remember it was in my long out of print book Stop Making Sense.

I remember drinking unpasteurized milk on St Croix.

I remember toxoplasmosis.

I remember Johnny Jelly Beaner

I remember “Pluck Your Magic Twanger, Froggie.”

I remember the singing nun and wished I didn’t.

I remember “Deck the halls with Boston Charlie.”

I remember Jean Shepard reading Byron with a Spanish guitar accompaniment on his nightly WOR radio show.

I remember his inspirational readings from the Manhattan phone book.

I remember phone books.

I remember In God We Trust All Others Pay Cash.

I remember seeing Curtis LeMay at a political rally in Utica.

I remember seeing Hubert Humphrey and the demonstrators chanting, “Dump the Hump, Dump the Hump.”

I remember that Tommy James and the Shondells were the “musical act” meant to attract and appeal to younger voters

I remember it was the first time we seen Tommy and his friends live.

I remember the dance my friends and I went stag to, stoned out our minds, and hung out with boys.

I remember they got a kick out of us.

I remember wondering why no one stopped us from having complete access to the band.

8-

I remember peace marches through the city.

I remember America Love it or Leave it.

I remember all the Utica cops had that phrase on bumper stickers on their patrol cars.

I remember when President Nixon called for the Silent Minority to be heard, Uticans turned out in force.

I remember when we had a peace fair on campus for the locals no one showed up.

I remember “This Little Bird.”

I remember “Girl on a  Motorcycle.”

I remember Marianne Faithfull’s soulful Ophelia.

I remember Billy Pilgrim

I remember Kilgore Trout and Venus on a Half Shell.

I remember Ace Science Fiction Doubles

I remember Mother Night.

I remember The Penultimate Truth.

I remember The Man in the High Castle.

I remember the first time I heard Dylan Thomas read his poetry.

I remember, ”rage, rage against the dying on the light.”

I remember losing almost thirty pounds when I had double viral pneumonia mid-way through my first semester freshman year.

I remember taking up smoking beginning with Luckies when I got over it.

I remember how stupid I was when I was 19 and immortal.

I remember writing “Visions Fill the Eyes of a Defeated basketball Team in a Showroom: a symphonic poem in three movements.”

I remember think no one would guess where I got that tile from.

I remember seeing Jumping Johnny Green live at the old Garden, at six foot six, out center jump Wilt “The Stilt” Chamberlin 7’1’ and it wasn’t even close.

I remember writing “An Explanation Offered to an Extraterrestrial of Bernstein Conducting Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony on Television with the Sound Turned Off.”

I remember the first time I saw The Persecution and Assassination of Jean-Paul Marat as Performed by the Inmates of the Asylum of Charenton Under the Direction of the Marquis de Sade.

I remember the second time I saw Marat/Sade and thinking it was a little too close to home.

I remember the first time I visited my mother at Pilgrim State when I was seven.

 Remember the years prior to that on St Croix.

I remember being told we were going there for “a rest cure,” though no one told me why my  father wasn’t going to be there.

I remember understanding that my father was never going to be there or anywhere else in my mother’s life ever again.

I remember  that I was eventually told I would see him again.

I remember it was close to two years after we went to St Croix, came back and she had the “nervous breakdown.”

I remember how I felt being alone twelve hundred miles or so from home with an out of control, hysterical woman.

I remember during the visits on weekends to Pilgrim State how mellow and laid back she was and  I thought this is not my mother, this is someone impersonating her.

I remember on one of those visits watching a movie in a day room with in-patients where I saw Frances the Talking Mule.

I remember how one patient in particular looked at me, as an outsider, as if I was somehow in league with Wilbur and that we were interfering with the messages Frances was trying to convey.

I remember how it wasn’t until many years later when I was writing my chapbook Visiting Day on the Psychiatric Ward that the patient actually believed Frances was a talking mule and had special  messages that needed to be understood.

I remembering wondering if the people who ran Pilgrim State and by extension, were responsible for treating her severe mental illnesses, did not have Clue 1.

I remember the second time she was at Pilgrim State, Involuntarily Confined, on a conference call with family and the doctors in charge of treatment and getting no real answers as to what her condition actually was and understanding that my first impressions was correct; these people had no fucking clue much less an understanding of how she thoguht and why she did the things she had done.

I remember, after my father died, finding the divorce decree and learning that in 1953, if you established residency in St Croix for one year you could get a No Contest divorce in the States.

Adrea Stojilkov in “Life (and) death in “Harry Potter”: The Immortality of Life and Soul, 2015, surveys critical case study of popular culture of fantasy fiction novelistic tradition whilst examining the titular heroic protagonist archetypal fictitious character of Harry Potter. Voicing Harry to be the harbinger of loving survivor heroism for the witchcraft and wizardry, the stream of consciousness authorial narrative trope within the realm of imaginative essayist, endows the heir of the Potter to be temptress of the soul. As journalistic eucharist eschatoglogical revelation of the hermeneutic tradition is radicalizing springing forth to the foray of theological and metaphysical implications. For instance, “Basilisk venom and fiendfyre” are fundamentally instrumental unicorn of blood elixirs of the spiritual battles raged in destruction of animosity harboured by manipulative schemers such as ripped burdened souls of ghoulie-phantom spectre-like figures of transgression.  

After all the boarding school detective speculative gothic romance adventure fantasy fiction is hailed as superheroic agency of the witchcraft cult textual performativity of immersive theatricality through visceral evocation of experiential spectatorial gaze and/or phenomenal aurality of being “The Chosen One”, who thwarted Dark Lord Voldemort. However, hectic ordeal of seven books and herculean odyssey of seven corresponding years transcend as a triumphant victory over the diabolical agency of devilry. Being doppelganger Harry Potter resurrects the aural spectrality of Voldemort’s redemptive quest for salvation and atonement by the transfiguration of humane virtues. Stone-heartedness of sadomasochistic ambitious antagonist Voldemort is surrealistically patronizing Potter-esque charisma in Rowling’s gothic masterpiece, since the former vouchsafes earthbound enchantment spirit for the anticipatory fear of deathliness. 

In Life (and) death in “Harry Potter”: The Immortality of Life and Soul, Andrea Stojilkov (pg. 8) cites Harry and Dumbledore’s utopic space time travel through psychic farsightedness, then and there, Rowling herself states through Dumbledore’s words that Harry’s death is not definite. Furthermore, the white, misty King’s Cross seems too desolate for Heaven, believed to be inhabited by the souls of good individuals, God and angels, a place of fellowship. To my intuitive argument, Harry’s phoenix-like resurrected reawakening of the afterlife healing journey is transformatively rewarding by Dumbledore’s sacrificial boon’s forces. Despite the withered hand being healed, however, the crookedness of nose and piercing blue eyes of a half moon spectacles do not vanish in Dumbledore’s fate. Since then, the limbo child-leaving Voldemort inverted serpent soul whimpering of master theologian metaphysician sacrificial vouchsafing safeguards and shields Harry with immaculate vision and disappearance of lightning scar. Herein, Dumbledore’s lamb-like lamp sheds light by the glory of magical realism as envisioned by King’s Cross. 

However, essay writer’s conjuration of Harry’s admissibility through Barzakh ushers wholesome “wh(s) on earth” and “good heaven’s sake” subliminal textuality of Quranic allusion. Herein real and imaginary, life and death, spirituality and materiality, neither existent nor non existent, neither negated nor affirmed facsimile world; Harry’s metaphysical quest of pilgrimage in spirituality encounters phoenix-fawkes spirited guardian angel Dumbledore—the custodian and protector of souls; because of flesh and blood material bodied souls offered by veil or barrier “body can see anything and everything from everywhere everytime”. Life (and) death in “Harry Potter”: The Immortality of Life and Soul, Andrea Stojilkov (pg. 10) 

Because of ascetic and moralistic writers disposition of austerity and graveness, the literary critic Margarita Carretero Gonzalez in “The Lord of the Rings: a myth for the modern Englishmen” ( 1998)declares fantasy fiction and imaginative literature to be a depopularizing paperback bestsellers genre tradition amongst the Spaniards. Nonetheless, plurilingualism of other European worlds gracefully occasioned to wholeheartedly embrace translation of Tolkien such as Sweden and Denmark. This might be posited that perhaps beyond multilingualism, plurilingualism provided dynamic and interconnected nature of language repertoire, advancing code switching and cross-linguistic influences to appreciate romantic fairy-story mythlore of epic romance. 

Gonzalez (1998, p. 2) went on to argue that the Anglo-Saxon period, Victorian medievalism, idealization of the Middle Ages predominantly depicting spatiotemporality of the hobbits and the Shires to be the character and culture of the English way of life and the English rural countryside, might have been intriguing the denizens and locales of English native soil and clime. These Britishers have felt the urgency for environmental stewardship  and climate change campaigns due to the progressive disappearance of England’s natural environment. This paving of nationalistic internationalization predominantly springs forth in Northern European regions more than the Southern European regions. Furthermore affinity to the sagas in the North Atlantic peoples—— the Scandinavians and their heirs in Iceland, Greenland and England extrapolates critical commentary of Georgiana St. Clair in “‘The Lord of the Rings’ as a Saga” (1979). Thus facilitates acculturation of hybridized and diversified generic terms of fairy-story, epic, novel and romance.      

Much like J K Rowling’s Harry Potter series heroic idol of feminism Hermione, J R R Tolkien’s Eowyn is a star studded champion in advocacy of women’s emancipation and female empowerment. Eowyn, House of Eorl, a woman with a strong, stern and steel personality, ride and wield blade and does not fear pain or death resembles Hermoine’s association in the company of Ron and Harry in slaying Basilisk with the sword of Gryffindor. Both J K Rowling and J R R Tolkien are acquitted from misogyny and sexism after this literature review, thus challenging stereotypical gendered expectations of hackneyed microcosms. After all these heroines of chivalry crucially manifest themselves as iron ladies and shield maidens in redeeming their male counterparts to be defenders and protectors of life.  

If narrative history of chronicle like recording of events would postulate a saga of recovery, escape, consolation, that then J K Rowling’s Harry Potter sagas and J R R Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings trilogy emanate characteristic quintessential features of eucatastrophe in the inner consistency of reality and/ or the willing suspension of disbelief. In substantiation of this internally consistent fictional world, Georgiana St. Clair in “‘The Lord of the Rings’ as a Saga” (1979) states that, “These critics see in the Grey Havens the Christian Heavenly City: they see the ending as the joyful ascension, without death, of the heroes into heaven. However, in “The Hobbit-Forming World of J. R .R. Tolkien,” Henry Resnik reports that Tolkien’s long acquaintance with Norse and Germanic myths inspired the chillier, more menacing landscapes of middle-earth, and he makes no secret of having deliberately shaped the two major interests of his life—- rural England and the northern myths—— to his own literary purposes. In The Lord of the Rings Tolkien says, I have tried to modernize the myths and make them credible.” Consequently, if the Grey Havens is to be associated with Valhalla rather than the Christian Heaven, then the ending must reflect that interpretation. The Valkyries take the heroes from this life to Valhalla, to a magnificent banquet, sports, and fighting. But Valhalla is not an eternal refuge, only a waiting place until that final confrontation between good and evil. In this final battle, the Gods and the heroes will fight valiantly, but they will fall. The joy of Valhalla is the promise of one more combat, not the infinite gloria of Christian salvation and everlasting life. The voyage to the Grey Havens is not a eucatastrophic event.” 

Following this un eucatastrophic trajectory and after digression from Hans Christian Andersen and Dostoevksy a full fledged paper authorship is a swashbuckler challenging spectacle, whilst considering the limitations of JStor resources free accessibility. For instance, “The Lord of the Rings”: The Novel as Traditional Romance” by George H. Thomson is the least of the reading material I wish to endorse for citation. However, my two days work of independent scholarly research would proffer a standing ovation and libation tribute to the comparative literature and cultural studies curricula in the context and worldview of Rowling and Tolkien. Imagining a fiction writing master class workshop with J K Rowling positing the imperative pronouncement of poetic diction and I am delighted to craft a transliteration of a feast of the middle earth home: “Far Over the Misty Mountains Cold”. Author of the modern century and the modern medievalist delves into the subliminal aura of the readers with treasure trove of pale enchanted and long-forgotten gold.

Gender roles in society

Beyond the Binary: Gender Roles and the Diplomacy of Open Minds

Introduction: The Personal and the Spiritual

In a world that is increasingly interconnected, how we understand and respond to gender roles is more than a cultural footnote—it is central to our spiritual journey, governance, development, and personal relationships. Gender roles, as outlined in the Bible, are not fixed ideologies etched in stone; they are dynamic, evolving, and deeply contextual.

My own experience is proof of this paradox. In my family, gender roles have profoundly shaped the way we relate to one another. The traditional expectations we inherit dictate our responsibilities and aspirations, yet an underlying discord remains: each of us operates within the cusp of our acceptance and understanding. This limitation constrains our ability to evolve beyond preordained roles—yet the capacity for change exists, if only we make space for it.

A Brief Historical Backdrop

Historically, gender roles have been constructed through a complex web of religion, economics, war, labor, and culture. Ancient matrilineal societies like the Minangkabau in Indonesia or the Iroquois Confederacy in North America stood in contrast to the patriarchal structures of ancient Rome or feudal Europe. With the Industrial Revolution came a rigid divide: the public sphere for men, the domestic for women.

The 20th century shattered many of these binaries. World Wars I and II saw women entering the workforce en masse. The feminist movements—from the suffragists of the early 1900s to the second-wave feminism of the 1960s and intersectional feminism of today—challenged inherited norms and demanded new paradigms of equality and representation.

But progress is not linear. In some families and communities—including my own—tradition persists, creating tensions between progress and resistance.

Personal Reflections: The Limitations of Acceptance

Growing up, gender roles shaped my family’s dynamics in ways that often felt immovable. There were clear expectations—who was responsible for earning, who managed household affairs, who was granted emotional space, and who bore the invisible weight of cultural obligations. Yet, as our world evolved, these once-fixed roles felt increasingly impractical, if not outright restrictive.

At times, I saw my father wrestle with the idea that nurturing was not solely a maternal trait. I observed my mother balance professional aspirations against unspoken pressures to maintain domestic harmony. My siblings and I, in different ways, have questioned why we must conform to roles dictated by tradition rather than individual potential. This disconnect—between the roles we inherited and the realities we live—demands dialogue, effort, and an openness to change.

Case Studies: The Global Friction in Gender Roles

This struggle is not unique. Across the world, individuals and institutions grapple with the limits imposed by gender roles.

Example 1: The Japanese Corporate Landscape

Japan, a country known for both tradition and technological advancement, continues to struggle with gender equality in the workplace. Despite progress, corporate hierarchies often reinforce expectations that women should prioritize family over career. The result? Women frequently face the “M-shaped curve”—leaving the workforce after childbirth with limited re-entry opportunities. But change is happening policies advocating for parental leave and inclusive work environments are slowly reshaping these structures.

Example 2: South Africa’s Shift in Household Dynamics

In South Africa, gender roles intersect with economic realities. Historically, patriarchal structures placed men as primary providers. Yet, with shifts in employment trends and societal expectations, women increasingly assume financial leadership in families. This transition is not always met with acceptance, leading to conflicts where traditional masculinity clashes with contemporary survival needs.

Example 3: The Rise of Nonbinary Identities in Legal Frameworks

The recognition of nonbinary identities in countries such as Canada, India, and Germany marks a significant departure from historical gender binaries. However, legal acknowledgment does not automatically translate to social acceptance. Individuals navigating gender fluidity often encounter resistance—not due to inherent opposition, but because established frameworks struggle to adapt.

Why Keeping an Open Mind Matters

Open-mindedness is not about abandoning one’s values—it’s about making room for other realities. In diplomacy, this is especially vital. Misunderstanding gender roles in a host country can derail peace talks, foreign aid programs, or education campaigns. In everyday life, failing to listen to different experiences creates exclusion and resentment.

In my own family, I’ve seen that the mere act of listening—without immediate rebuttal—creates opportunities for dialogue that were once impossible. Understanding precedes transformation.

Five Ways to Keep an Open Mind About Gender Roles

Interrogate Your Assumptions

Ask yourself where your beliefs about gender roles come from—family, religion, media—and whether they still hold true in the face of new evidence.

Listen Without Rebuttal

Let people speak about their experiences without preparing a counterpoint. Listening is not the same as agreeing, but it opens the door to understanding.

Consume Diverse Narratives

Read books, watch films, and follow thought leaders from different genders, cultures, and identities. Empathy grows through exposure.

Be Comfortable with Discomfort

Growth often comes from discomfort. If something challenges your worldview, sit with it. Ask why it feels threatening.

Update, Don’t Cancel

You’re allowed to evolve. Holding a belief ten years ago doesn’t make you irredeemable—it makes you human. Be open to changing your mind.

Conclusion: The Diplomacy of the Self

Gender roles are no longer dictated solely by tradition or biology—they are in dialogue with economics, technology, global mobility, and generational change. In that dialogue, the most effective diplomats are those who can listen deeply, adapt respectfully, and think critically.

In my own life, I have seen that acceptance and understanding are the first steps toward change. A family, a workplace, a nation—none transform overnight. But a modicum of effort can create ripples that extend far beyond personal experience.

An open mind is not a passive one. It is a powerful tool for transformation—of policies, institutions, and most importantly, of ourselves.

---

References

• Beauvoir, S. de. (1949). The Second Sex.
• Butler, J. (1990). Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity.
• Maathai, W. (2006). Unbowed: A Memoir.
• Geena Davis Institute on Gender in Media. (n.d.). https://seejane.org
• UNESCO. (2019). Gender Equality: Heritage and Creativity.

UN Women. (2024). Progress of the World’s Women Report.

MY TRUSTY MOUNT

He dedicates his life to you, gives everything, works day and night so that my child is not inferior to his peers. This is all for us. he brings you the best so that you don’t get cold. he doesn’t care that his legs hurt for several years, if you just say oh he will set the world on fire. for your father, for your mother, you are the dearest, incomparable person in the world.
He will give everything so that we can study and become mature and good staff in the future. He will pay your contract money even if he is in trouble. If he can’t deliver a little money, he can’t look you in the eye like he owes you.

In my opinion, the most valuable person in this life for all of us is our father.
It is our father who occupies the main place in our life. Our father is the cause of our birth in this life. Our father is the one who gave the first education in this life.
Our father is the reason for my success in this life. It is our father who will be the strongest encouragement to us in this life. Father is the best motivator in this life. We should appreciate them.

Father is pleased – God is pleased. This statement is a clear example of how great a father is. Therefore, it is our highest duty to please them and receive their blessings.

Mahmudova Sohibaxon graduated from Fergana State University.