Satire and Humor

Give Me a Ceiling

I often ask myself: Where is my ceiling?

All the time, women are praised for breaking through a glass ceiling. That leaves me feeling left out as a man because women will always be able to do something I can’t. Look, you don’t even have to make my ceiling glass. Honestly, I’d be happy settling for a brick ceiling. Sure, there won’t be glass shattering when I break through my ceiling like Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible, but at least I’ll be able to claim, as a man, that I did something reserved only for women.

I also feel left out when it comes to the wage gap. People are always talking about the struggle women have as they make about seventy-seven cents to every dollar a man makes. Well, forget that “struggle” for a second and remember there are people out there, men included, who don’t even have a job. As a male, I’m currently making zero cents to every dollar every working man makes! Why worry about the struggle of women, when not all men are making one hundred cents to every dollar a man supposedly makes!

Then there’s the “tragedy” women face with a lack of healthcare. That’s great and all, and important too, but I can’t even get my healthcare taken care of on an ordinary basis. To be blunt about it: my sex life is lacking compared to a lot of my male peers, which leaves me feeling left out. I understand the need to get women healthcare so they can take care of their body. But when I’m denied the opportunity to visit my own general practitioner to complain about some painful green discharge, why should I feel pity for the woman who is denied healthcare that will prevent a little nuisance called pregnancy? Really, before I can start to value women’s health, I have got to be taken care of myself in that department.

Finally, there is the lack of protection from violence women face. Or rather, the lack of it for me. I got beat up and mugged and left on the side of the road because I was walking alone to a gas station at one in the morning. Sure enough, people started blaming me for my condition, just like people blame women when they’re raped for being in the wrong place at the wrong time or being too nice to the wrong guy, or staying in an abusive relationship. Blame them all you want, but don’t blame me for needing a Snickers at one in the morning to satisfy my raging appetite. A raging appetite almost as strong as my desire for a ceiling.

So, what I’m trying to say is: Just give me a ceiling.


This article was written by Cole Thomas. Click here to see more of Cole’s work.

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