Beyond the Battle; Turning the page

Beyond the Battle; Turning the page

Character:

A woman in her mid-40s, thoughtful, wise, and reflective, addresses the audience directly. Her tone is calm and resonant, inviting contemplation.

Monologue:

I’ve heard the voices, loud and clear, calling out the flaws in men. I’ve seen the eyes rolling, the hands waving dismissively, the words dripping with contempt. And I know… I know where that anger comes from. The weight of centuries of silencing, of restraint, of all the ways our strengths, our minds, were told to be small. I feel it too. The frustrations, the injustices—they are real, and they matter.

But… let us think deeply, sisters. We have the strength now to do so. What do we gain by turning that weight into a weapon? By seeing men as our adversaries? Have we not learned enough about the pain of division, the loneliness of fighting alone?

Let me ask you this: Have you ever watched a dance where only one dancer moves, leaving the other frozen in place? The beauty isn’t just in the steps or the movements. It’s in the harmony, the give and take, the balance. One follows, then leads; the other leads, then follows. If we tear away half the dance, we’re left stumbling on our own, bereft of rhythm.

We are partners in this world. Partners. Not in a way that demands us to bend, but in a way that demands us to stand—side by side. We are equals. But equality isn’t found in the act of outshining or overshadowing; it’s found in shining together. We are two parts of the same whole, each gifted with qualities that can uplift, create, and sustain.

I ask myself, what does it mean to be wise in this age, as women? And I believe wisdom lies not in finding blame or seeking power for power’s sake, but in looking deeper, past the surface where resentment might sit, into the place where humanity resides.

There is no war here, sisters. Let us not make one. Because when we paint with anger, when we build walls instead of bridges, we only mirror the mistakes of those before us. We inherit their broken patterns instead of creating new ones.

And so, I choose a different way. I choose to look at men as they are—fellow humans, with their own struggles, their own joys and dreams, their own fears. They are flawed, yes, as we all are. But if we are wise, truly wise, we will see past those flaws to the potential they hold, just as we see it in ourselves.

In the end, we are all moving toward the same horizon. Women and men. Builders of worlds, carriers of dreams, architects of futures we will share. Let us not fall into the easy trap of dismissal, but rise to the harder task of understanding. Let us step forward, hand in hand, and build a world where our strengths complement rather than clash, where we choose partnership over power struggle, harmony over hostility.

This is wisdom. This is the deeper path. To see not enemies, but allies. To embrace not resentment, but respect. To build not walls, but bridges.

And if we can do this, if we can truly see one another… then perhaps we will find that the best way forward isn’t through battle, but through the quiet, profound power of unity.

(She pauses, her face softening as she looks out at the audience, a gentle smile appearing.)

Together, we are strong. Together, we create. Together, we rise.