u/newdayesitis

Why are Nepali men so horrible?

Why are Nepali men so fking horrible?

Majority are mysogynists, conservatives, literally use the word 'woman' as a slur or disrespect.

When some other man tries to do something towards women empowerment these arseh\*les use words like 'simp', 'she won't give bro', 'performative' just for the sake of making fun of that person.

Seriously, almost every male out there. And the words they use against women are just too too horrible. It's so pitiful that our society is like this.

When will south Asian men realise that it is impossible to progress by leaving half of the population (which is women) behind?

When will south Asian men grow brain inside their skull?

Even yesterday, I was supposed to give a session related to women empowerment. And I could see the mysogyny in the faces of each and everyone there. Even when I was raising serious topics, the way they were laughing was just heartbreaking.

So many things I can't even write up here. But yeah, seriously, what is wrong with majority of nepali men? When will they understand that feminism is not about making someone superior/inferior but about bring equality through equity in society?

Whennnnnnnn???????

I am not man enough,

gladly.

Not man enough

to perfect the posture of indifference,

arms folded, voice measured,

while a woman’s anger is called “too much”

and a man’s is called “authority.”

I am not man enough

to sit in circles where stories are interrupted,

where her words are stepped on mid-sentence,

where she must sharpen her voice

just to be heard,

and then be punished for its edge.

I am not man enough

to laugh on cue

when disrespect wears the mask of humor,

when dignity is the punchline,

when someone says relax, it’s just a joke

as if cruelty softens

when it smiles.

I am not man enough

to fear the word feminist

to hold it like a threat to my chest,

as if equality were a blade,

as if justice could carve something out of me

that deserved to stay.

No,

I have seen too much.

I have seen the way she walks at night,

every shadow a calculation,

every step a quiet negotiation

with a world that taught her

to be careful before it taught her to be free.

I have seen keys clenched between fingers,

seen messages typed 'I reached home'

as if survival itself

needs confirmation.

I have seen silence stitched

into conversations,

how stories pause, hesitate, fracture,

because telling the truth

is never as simple

as saying the words.

And I am not man enough

to pretend I don’t.

If being a man

means inheriting this silence,

passing it down like tradition,

calling it patience, calling it peace,

then I am not man enough.

Gladly.

If strength is measured

by how well I can ignore

the uneven weight of this world,

by how comfortably I can sit

while someone else shrinks,

then let me be weak.

Gladly.

Let me be unworthy

of a masculinity

that survives on looking away.

Let me be disqualified

from brotherhoods

built on swallowed truths

and half-spoken apologies.

Because I would rather

stutter through the right words,

rather stand awkward and unsure,

rather be called “too much,”

“too loud,”

“too soft,”

than become fluent

in silence.

So no,

I am not man enough.

I refuse the version of manhood

that demands blindness,

that rewards distance,

that confuses control with strength

and apathy with pride.

I am not man enough

to watch, to know,

and to say nothing.

And if that is what it takes

to belong,

then I will remain

unclaimed.

Gladly.

I am not man enough,

Gladly!

I Hate You

24th of May, 2022.

I hate that day.

Because that’s when life lost its way.

You walked in smiling, too bright, too true,

and the world bent itself around you.

I hate your eyes, that quiet storm,

how peace in your chaos became my norm.

I hate your laugh, your careless tone,

how you made my loneliness feel like home.

2nd of June, 2022.

I hate that night, the first we spoke.

You shared a joke, and something broke.

I hate how my guard just slipped,

how my heart leaned in before my lips.

I hate the ease, the warmth, the sound,

the way my silence turned around.

You didn’t mean to, I know that’s true.

But that’s the night I stopped being “me,” and became “you.”

2nd of August, 2022.

I hate that word “friend,” we said.

A pretty lie my heart misread.

I hate how safe you made it seem,

like love was just some harmless dream.

I hate the talks, the late night calls,

the promises that built my walls.

You didn’t know, but if you knew…

you’d hate me too for loving you.

16th of March, 2023.

I hate that day, I swear I do.

That’s when I told you what’s true.

I hate the air, it didn’t move,

the world just paused, like it disapproved.

You looked at me, then looked away

and silence had too much to say.

I hate that courage I called “brave,”

when all it did was dig my grave.

2nd of January, 2024.

I hate that night, the cruelest part.

I said you’re everything. Meant it. Heart.

You smiled a little, just enough

to make the fall feel soft, not rough.

I hate that smile, that mercy glance,

that fooled my heart into one more chance.

You didn’t stay, you never do.

And still, I never hated you.

3rd of July, 2024.

I hate that truth, the one I found.

That even gone, you’re still around.

I hate the dreams that wear your face,

the way your name fills every space.

I hate the pain I can’t unfeel,

the love that time can’t seem to kill.

I hate the way I wait, still true

I hate myself for loving you.

28th of December, 2024.

I hate that gift, that stupid day.

I gave you my best and you looked away.

I hate that peace, that final look,

like you’d just closed a half-read book.

I hate how soft your goodbye fell,

like love itself had learned farewell.

You smiled once more, it tore me through.

Even your goodbye said “I love you.”

21st of January, 2025.

Time: 5:41. Cold sky, dry air.

I hate it, but I’m not sure where.

I love it too, the end, the clear.

The day I stopped, but you’re still here.

I love the pain, the scar, the hue

the proof that I once belonged to you.

But love like this can’t be renewed,

so take it all, it’s overdue.

And if someday you wonder why 

why I turn away, don’t even try.

Just know this truth, it’s bitter, it’s blue:

I hate you.

And God, I wish it weren’t true.

I would catch the moon for you,

but it dances too high above.

I would lay roses on your pillow,

but roses have their own dreams of love.

I would learn the songs of the lark,

and sing your favourite tune.

But my voice is small and earthly,

and cannot match the sky's own croon.

I would gather the stars one by one,

to keep your nights alight with grace,

But my arms are only mortal,

And the sky is not mine to embrace.

So I give you what I hold closest,

My heart, quietly yours to keep,

It’ll ask for no words to be opened,

And it will love you even in sleep.