Cavemen in business suits

I recently came across an advertisement by a global soap brand — tastefully shot, culturally rich, emotionally engineered. Little girls appear on screen, gently guided toward one noble destiny: growing up beautiful for someone.

Marriage hovers like a finish line. Education, at best, is a side note.

Then comes the twist. The ad tells us it’s time to revolutionize this ice-age idea.

Ice age? That’s generous. If this way of thinking were truly extinct, we wouldn’t still be packaging it with cinematic lighting and progressive voiceovers. We wouldn’t need reminders that girls are more than future wives. And we certainly wouldn’t still be debating whether women should prioritize learning over being chosen.

Let’s be clear: it’s the new millennium. We have artificial intelligence, electric cars, and men confidently sharing opinions without credentials.

Yet women are still introduced to the world as decorative possibilities — as if ambition is optional, but attractiveness is compulsory.

If we want girls prepared for life, we must stop teaching them how to be pleasing and start teaching them how to be powerful. Independence begins with education.

The brain remains the most formidable weapon one can have — especially in societies where women are still treated as second-class citizens with first-class expectations.

Which brings me to the workplace.

Men arrive wrapped in corporate respectability — tailored suits, polished shoes, mission statements memorized. And yet, beneath the starch and structure, some still have the mindset of cavemen who’ve learned PowerPoint.

Staring. Lingering. Scanning women’s bodies as though professionalism evaporates the moment a skirt enters the room.

Let’s stop pretending this is rare. We all know staring is rude. Yet staring lustfully — at a woman’s chest, legs, or behind — is as rude as it gets. I’ve seen it in offices, elevators, meetings, and hallways. It is not appreciation.

And no, don’t insult us by calling it subtle.

Here’s the part no one likes to say out loud: silence is what turns bad behavior into culture.

If you’ve watched The Morning Show, you’ll remember how an entire team turned a blind eye while sexual harassment unfolded in real time.

No one spoke up. No one intervened.

And because no one did, it became normal.

Acceptable. Embedded.

Silence didn’t make them innocent. It made them complicit.

That’s how cultures are formed. Not by loud offenders alone, but by quiet bystanders.

So, allow me a thought experiment that’s been bothering me for a long time.

What if the tables were turned? What if I stared at your private parts — not with desire, but with detached assessment? Not lustfully, but condescendingly? With quiet pity? As though evaluating something that didn’t meet even basic standards. Would you want that?

Of course not.

And spare me the bullshit defense of “I’m just appreciating.”

Let me help with your vocabulary.

Appreciation’s closest synonym is respect.

Respect does not leer.

Respect does not linger where it isn’t invited.

Respect does not reduce a colleague to body parts while expecting competence and grace.

Words matter, too — especially the ones we casually throw around.

“Lami,” for instance. When used to describe food, that’s perfectly acceptable. Encouraged, even. But when the same word is used to describe a woman, it crosses a line. That’s no longer language — it’s harassment.

You don’t get to objectify someone simply because the comment is wrapped in dialect or delivered with a grin.

And no, you don’t get a pass for being “short on words.” If you can articulate quarterly targets, industry jargon, and weekend plans, you can certainly find better language — or stronger restraint.

If you need an English dictionary to describe women with dignity, perhaps start there instead of staring.

Before you reach for the most predictable excuse — “It’s how she dresses” — stop.

Her body, her choice.

Unless she’s wearing something obscene, which is highly unlikely in a corporate environment, that argument collapses instantly.

The problem is not her skirt. It’s your gaze.

This is why ads alone won’t save us. You can’t dismantle centuries of objectification with a soap commercial and a clever tagline.

You do it by speaking up. By calling things what they are. By refusing to normalize behavior that should have been unacceptable decades ago.

Because when no one says anything, it doesn’t fade away. It settles in.

It becomes culture.

History won’t remember you as traditional — it will remember you as obsolete.

Still brewing thoughts — no sugarcoating, just stories steeped in truth.