Ethic 3

by Ashley Antoinette

Young women went into love with the purpose of proving how true theirs could be. They measured their commitment by how much they could endure for a man. They would do anything asked and often even what hadn’t been asked to attempt to symbolize their allegiance. It wasn’t until after a woman knew herself did she establish parameters.

​“I am woman and woman is beautiful. We are expected to be beautiful, so I will be what people don’t expect. They don’t expect intelligence, they don’t expect grace. I am strong, and even when others have the ability to physically overpower me, mentally, I am stronger. I am a queen on a throne, and a place next to me must be earned. When I find my king, his power doesn’t erase my own. My crown is not a man’s to repossess. I was born in regality. I am kind, but naivety does not dwell within me. I am woman. I am the origin. Everything begins and ends with me. No man is worthy of my worth. I cannot be bought. I will not sell myself short. I do not give discounts. I am woman. I demand respect. I respect my dignity. My presence is a revocable gift, rented with effort and good intention. I am woman.”

Men and women were created in pairs and roamed the world searching for their match. Man was made to hunt, to find nourishment not only to feed the hunger in their bellies but the hunger in their souls.

“You know I don’t think you can say you love someone until you love the darkest parts of them,” Ethic said. “It’s easy to love when everything is good, when everything feels easy. It’s the darkness that tests true love.”

“They’re ugly,” she whispered, as if she was making excuses for her body being exactly what it was supposed to be - a home for seeds to grow.

It was the double standard that men lived by. They expected women to accept what they, themselves, would not.

“I am in love with her. In love, YaYa. In. Submerged in. Dissolved in. Parts of her have melted into me so I couldn’t separate the sentiment from her on the darkest day. She’s in me. That means you and everybody else that was inside my heart before her had to get out,” Ethic explained. “The way I love her doesn’t leave room for anyone else.”

If a woman had even one complaint, one insecurity, one area in which she was unfulfilled, then her man wasn’t doing his part.

In another world, some alternate universe, she would be his wife. Not this one, though. In this one, she was meant to pass through his life briefly and give him an experience that was full of passion, but not everlasting.

She could see the effects of what Lucas had done hanging onto Morgan. It was a part of her scars. Every woman had them, maybe not the same type, but women collected events in their lives that tarnished who they were.