the future our children are rehearsing(womanhood and manhood)

artists wear props to perform —
lashes, nails, veneers, makeup, corsets, wraps, wigs, filters —
all part of the show.

but somewhere between the stage and the mirror,
the performance becomes everyday life.

die‑hard fans turn the costume into a uniform.
the concert look becomes the morning routine.
and people copy the same outfits for daily life,
calling it “my dress, my choice,”
or “just being trendy,”
not realising the choice was shaped long before they made it.

and young girls watch —
their sisters, their mothers, their grandmothers —
layering, fixing, tightening, painting, reshaping.

they learn early that beauty is something you build,
not something you already are.

but the boys are watching too
they don’t always reach for lashes or lipstick,
but they reach for other masks.

they learn that softness is dangerous,
that emotions must be swallowed,
that manhood must be performed.

so they sag their pants to look “hard,”
get tattoos to look “fearless,”
smoke to look “cool,”
lift until their bodies ache,
take shortcuts to speed up the becoming,
speak in borrowed street language
to sound untouchable.

they learn early that masculinity is something you prove,
not something you already have.

the part no one talks about
people say men love when their women look good,
but most men don’t even notice the details.

they’re too tired.
too stressed.
too busy calculating the next bill,
the next shift,
the next responsibility.

they don’t see the shade of the lipstick
or the length of the lashes.
they see pressure.
they see expectation.
they see a standard they must keep funding
because the world told them that’s what a “real man” does.

and when their friends say,
“your lady looks amazing,”
that’s when he suddenly feels something —
not pride,
but relief.

relief that maybe he’s good enough.
relief that maybe he didn’t choose wrong.
relief that maybe he “hit the jackpot.”

because deep down,
he never believed she would choose him in the first place.
so now he works twice as hard,
gives twice as much,
sacrifices twice as often,
because he’s terrified of losing her.

and society calls this balance.
calls this progress.
calls this partnership.

ouch.

and the children are watching
they see the exhaustion.
they see the performance.
they see the fear.
they see the pressure.

they see women turning their bodies into projects,
and men turning their hearts into armour.

and because no one questions it,
they assume this is adulthood.
this is love.
this is normal.
this is the future.

today it’s fake nails and hair.
tomorrow?
we don’t even know.
because the line keeps moving,
and the world keeps calling it “progress.”

the painful comedy of it all
women spend to be enough.
men work to be enough.
everyone is performing.
everyone is pretending.
everyone is trying to meet a standard
that was never theirs to begin with.

and the world applauds.
“perfect couple.”
“balanced household.”
“modern relationship.”

ouch.