Not in my name

By Roger Chao

Not in my name

In this quiet hour, I summon words, a humble man amidst shadows long,

To speak of wounds not my own, to voice a plea so loud and strong.

For streets that haunt with harried silence, for whispers in the dark,

For the women who carry nightmares in the hollows of their hearts,

I say, not in my name, shall this darkness be just fate.

 

Not in my name, will the long night prowl with fears that speak untold,

Where sisters, mothers, daughters, wives, brave the icy streets so cold.

Each step a story of caution, each shadow a stifling cage,

In their eyes, an unshackled resilience, a silent but building rage.

Not in my name, shall safety be a treasure locked by sun’s last light.

 

A father’s heart, a brother’s vow, to guard and cherish life so dear,

Yet, lurking in the darkness’ shroud, a haunting, pervasive arc of fear.

For every woman who dares to dream, of simple walks in moon’s embrace,

Finds not the peace of starlit streams, but wary steps she must retrace.

Not in my name, shall fear strip their freedoms bare.

 

From park to bus stop, from alley to the open market’s sprawl,

There’s a vast trembling unspoken, a siege without a single wall.

Why should freedom wear curfews, tied down by heavy cords of threat?

Why must half the world’s hearts beat loud and their foreheads bead with sweat?

Not in my name, shall freedom’s price be paid with fear.

 

Hear the voices rising now, a chorus grown too loud to mute,

Of those refused their evening walks, a jog, a simple forest route.

See the power in their marching, in their signs, and in their tears,

Resisting the violent silences that have spanned through many years.

Not in my name, shall the violent claim their gruesome deeds are just.

 

Oh, how can it be in age so bold, where justice claims its ever reach,

That women young and women old, must cautiously move and freedom beseech?

It is not just, it is not right, this burden heavy they must bear,

To shrink beneath the veil of night, feeling eyes that linger, stare.

Not in my name, shall this blight persist its dawn.

 

From my own steps, unburdened, free, I wander paths both far and near,

Yet ponder deep this irony, that half the world moves gripped with fear.

What creed or colour matters not, when shadows threaten, chilled to the bone,

For we are kin, this truth forgot: a woman’s fight for safety – our own.

Not in my name shall this imbalance further propagate.

 

Let not the blame rest upon the shoulders of those who merely live,

Who seek only the liberty that the light of day can give.

The burden is on us as men, men to stand, and men to hear,

To hold our brothers accountable, to lend our voice clear.

Not in my name, shall passivity be our spirit’s stance.

 

I call upon my brothers, to break the chains we see and don’t see,

To challenge each cruel whisper, each injustice, with fervent plea.

For in our silence, we speak volumes; in inaction, we consent,

To the perpetuation of fear, of loss, the freedoms rent.

Not in my name, shall I walk this path in silence, nor in blame.

 

This is our moment, forged in the glowing courage of those who dare

To reclaim their nights, their rights, to breathe free the sweet evening air.

Together, let us rewrite the longstanding rules of night and day,

Where every soul can wander free, where strident fear dissolves away.

Not in my name, not in my name, shall this world remain the same.

 

To walk in peace, to jog alone, should not be acts of courage told,

But everyday by sunlight shown, in stories both bright and bold.

So here I stand, a man, a shield, against the dark that preys unchecked,

Until the streets at night are healed, with dignity and respect.

Not in my name, shall women grip their keys between braced knuckles.

 

Thus, I stand before you, a man amidst the now turning tide,

To declare, through poetic lines, where my convictions do abide.

For every single woman’s right, for every life restrained by dread,

I’ll raise my voice, I’ll fight their fight and not leave a word unsaid.

Not in my name, shall the shadows rule; we demand the dawn.

 

So I will stand, and I will call, and raise my voice in this grim tide,

To challenge night, to build a wall of solidarity wide.

For every time a woman shrinks within herself to hide her fear,

A piece of our humanity sinks, lost within this frontier.

Not in my name, shall women glance in fear o’er their track.

 

I stand beside, not in front, my voice a quiet but growing hum,

For this is not my story to tell, but I will not be numb.

The dark history of battles, scored deep in silent welling tears,

Calls me to a solemn duty that transcends all gendered fears.

Not in my name, shall women carry the weight of blame.

 

For too long, the lingering night has claimed them, a shadowy domain,

Where whispered threats and clutching fears form an oft recurring chain.

Each news cycle spins its stories, the headlines all too stark and clear:

Another one assaulted, raped, more violence for women to fear.

Not in my name, shall these grievous events stir.

 

We talk of change, we talk of rights, in buildings both large and small,

But talk must move to action now, to change this once and for all.

It’s not just about the alleys, or the dangers lurking late,

It’s about the homes, the offices, where power seals their fate.

Not in my name, shall this abomination pursue its prey.

 

No more, they say, and no more, I echo, standing by their side,

No more using strength to smother, or secrets to further divide.

No more culture that dismisses, no more brushing off the pain,

No more turning blind eyes, allowing these horrors to remain.

Not in my name, not in my name, not in my name.

 

Let this refrain, not in my name, echo through the streets and time,

A call to change, from every man, and in every single clime.

May it carry the weight of justice, may it break the chains of fear,

May it be heard, may it be lived, until no one must adhere.

Not in my name, no, not in my name, shall we permit this night to last.

 

With every single line penned, with every chorus that we recite,

Let us mend the fabric torn, of humanity’s vast, vibrant site.

For all the world’s daughters and sisters, for justice, bright and bold,

Not in my name, shall the story of fear ever be retold.

Not in my name, not in my name, with these words, I stake my claim.

 

Not in my name, not in my name, not in my name.

 

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Roger Chao is a writer based in the beautiful Dandenong Ranges, where the forest and local community inspire his writings. Passionate about social justice, Roger strives to use his writing to engage audiences to think critically about the role they can play in making a difference.

 

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