When she didn’t have anything else to say, when it wasn’t appropriate to articulate the errors of the world, to an eight and upwards year old, she’d introduce small talk, starting with saying that there are two types of people in the world, there are those who will admit to have urinated in the shower, and then there are liars, and when she saw her grandson’s face- utter confusion – she’d sing a hymn song, take him close and rock a’ by-baby, tell him they were Grandma’s hands, and everything is going to be alright.
Grandma’s hands equated to the standing of whatever upstanding roots grounded growth, unassuming means of deduction lending itself to the principal of a woman’s world, and essentially underlying maybe at the very least it should be, and explaining the logic, when in fact it rings of testimony, come two men reminiscing on the year 2017, and all the achievements, failures and compounded inconsistencies of which provokes sit-up, listen-up and take note, what stayed ruthlessly clear from the sombre conversation is that the current conscience of the world is running at a lost without hands like Grandma’s regard, and alas getting the memo means regrettably screening the consequence.
To date, while the image of the 21st century woman may appear self-reliant, successful, and revolutionary, the aged old issue of female violence, repression of oppression and enforced discrimination continues to stagger on at an astounding rate. Thus, subjected to the barrage of Western 24Hour news, what is clear is that the current social climate is saturated with reports of women, since the nineteenth century, and the 20th century feminist movement are still fighting for equal pay, equal rights, and the needed awareness and action on sexual harassment and domestic violence, accordingly a common parallel of which runs as far Afghanistan, where half of all new brides are under 16, where it is the only country where the female suicide rate is higher than the male rate, in the Democratic Republic of Congo, when the rate of rape is so brutal, and systematic, international observers’; spectators to the grim entitled it “unprecedented”, in Iran, Nepal, Pakistan, Saudi Arabia, Mali, Guatemala and Sudan, notwithstanding areas of the globe not corresponded by 24hr news, the common parallel between all is running alongside guerrilla troops, sold to traffickers’, systematic rape used as a demographic weapon, sectarian violence, genital mutilation and honour killings, consequently lending itself to the implicit rule of man, and flagrantly his quenching influence at the throat of woman’s liberty, as the www. world now readily demonstrates choking the life out of humanity itself.
Looking at the insinuation of a woman’s world, to take a human principle, and flip it so it articulates basic bottom-line sense, humankind exists first and foremost as a species, and like any other species there are principles to be obeyed, as so the species can evolve and persist with permanence as they know it, principles that predetermine, everything, fundamentally a sole principle that all living species abide by, but one; the human species, despite democracy and always in the name of God alas is the sentiment of war, and pillage, ethnic cleansing and guerrilla rape not by Grandma’s hands; influences that traditionally hold a sincere regard for humanity, but fundamentally, as history and current times have informed the human conscience of, by hands of men who do not possess the same regard, or at the very least consistently refer to it, in effect contributing, on a sentinel and bilogical level to the destruction of the human race.
The late rapper Tupac Shakur referred to the struggle of a woman’s world in his song; ‘Keep Ya’ Head Up’, an enduring classic because the “struggle” prolongs, and for the reason that it more moved men in a sincere way than the women it was recorded for (no doubt a tight-lipped admission) paraphrasing quote: “ I wonder why...do we hate our women, time to heal our women...and if we don’t we’ll have a race of babies that will hate the ladies.” The lyrics essentially lends itself to the conformity of doing the opposite thing to what the species requires of the genus, and expecting everything else that matters to exist in any other way than with an ingrained principle of xenophobic humanity, clinically ruffling emotion and each pulse to provoke, amongst other things, dictatorial sensations . By the same virtue of being a woman, doesn’t necessarily entitle ones humanity to speak for itself, case in point the woman that was Irma Grese – The Hyena of Auschwitz, and Queen Mary 1st of England – Bloody Mary, in the same way the quality of being black doesn’t necessarily make principle proud, and being white doesn’t automatically define creed as racist, or being religious doesn’t inevitably bless self-esteem with compassion, the reality is spectators of prolific pornography have daughters and sons too, and whether by purpose, or not, the baton carrying of life’s morals, distinctions, and self-possession is passed around and here we have it; the human race as it is, barely retaining a progressive, symbolic testament to time, and it’s Grandma’s hands; the Mother’s regard evidently what the human race seems to be missing the most.
Grandma’s quip about two types of people in the world, principally regarded a habit in all its fallen glory, she spoke of Grandma hands that rocked Granny when she was a baby, same hands that banged tambourines and turned hymn pages of what the good book said, when without those hands is a scenario that humankind, and sworn by almighty God not even but one divine entity wants to see. Granny’s hands use to issue out a warning, a cautionary tale of which every country across the world cannot deny now hearing, and as the 21st century continues to imply the world is at an unsparing crossroads, staggered by an immoral imbalance critical to its kind, bordering on psychological cliché humankind is still solely dependent on a regard like hers, and in the vein of its beginning, essentially the survival of the human race appropriately depends on women, as far as James Brown was concerned principally in a woman’s world.