I am in a cage.

I don’t know how long I have been in it — maybe from my birth? I have been thinking about who I am and where I am from, but I have no idea. But…at least I am still conscious, and I can think. I don’t know why I have this ability.

The question that I want to figure out most is, “Where I am going?” I can’t move here. My body is so restricted in this small cage, and it’s even difficult for me to turn around. Day by day I sleep and wake up, and get some water and food from the keeper — definitely not tasty at all.

There are other cages in the room, hanging up on ropes beneath the ceiling. I am the only conscious one inside a cage; all the other ones are asleep or passed out. If one dies, the keeper will remove the body. I don’t know what will happen next. It’s difficult for me to see other cages—there are just so many.

But I do see what’s outside. There’s a small window on the wall of this big room, and through the window I see a lawn and the blue sky. Sometimes there are kids playing on the lawn.

Once in a while, several people will come in and have coffee with each other underneath the cages that imprison us. Usually I can’t hear what they say—even if I can, they are just fragments of sentences. But today, three men come in and start to chat with each other very loudly.

“Ahh, people are graded since they are born. This principle will never change. It’s so stupid that the inferior are fighting for their so-called ‘equality’! Things are decided at the beginning, and all the efforts are useless.”

“Yeah, yeah. Their slogan is always ‘diversity’, ‘freedom of thinking’, and the like. You name it. Diversity and freedom of speech will disrupt our society! This poses a huge threat to the established order. The order of our society is the treasure of our ancestors. These troublemakers are always breaking the rules and creating chaos! How foolish!”

I pressed my fingernail into my palm. It’s not as absolute as what they say.

I haven’t dared to talk to people outside my cage, but today I can’t hold it in.

“Gentlemen,” I say, seeing them looking up at me, their eyes wide open with great surprise. “How can people be happy when they can’t think freely? How can human civilization thrive without diversity and creativity?”

Those men freeze for a second, and then laugh. After laughing they suddenly turn mad, and their laughter turns to shouts: “You are WRONG! Stop doubting and questioning like that. You are just naive, without even a little knowledge. You do not have the right to talk to us.” 

One man is so triggered that he even stands up, walks to my cage and shakes it intensely. I lose my balance, and my knee hits the sharp iron bar at the edge of the cage. It bleeds, and red blood  flows from the wound to the cage’s floor. I refrain from expressing my pain. “Stop talking to us like that, you stupid thing!” He kicks the cage with all his might. My head and hands knock against another iron bar of the cage violently. Then the men go away, talking and sneering with disdain.

My hands are already full of blood, and I can feel the pain pounding in my head. 

I remain silent, for I don’t want to die. Dying means surrendering to the “powerful.”

But my heart isn’t silent.

“Hey, what is ‘RIGHT’, though? The rules that fit your standard of life? What about my idea of life?”

The men who were in the room seemed to be more experienced in life than me, but with such so-called “experience” they refused different opinions so easily. What a kind of self-importance! My life here can’t even be called a “life”—is this the reason why my opinion was rejected unconditionally?

It’s so ironic. I see a small group of people defining everything.

Suddenly the door opens, and the keeper comes in. He comes in…with a whip.

He turns to me, and raises the whip. His eyes are full of anger.

The keeper flogs me with the whip, and my wounds—which have just ceased bleeding so much—begin to bleed profusely again.

“You can never do it. You will never be the same as those respectable people. You will never escape to the outside world and talk equally with them. You are just stupid without any experience and knowledge. You know, I have seen so many like you. They never would succeed.”

The whip is hitting me so strongly that I want to protest. But I can’t even stand straight, much less move.

“See, you don’t have any potential. I am experienced, and I can see it. You will live in the cage until death. You will never be what you want. Stop trying, you will fail. But you can dream about it, fool!”

The final hit is over, leaving my body bleeding. I stare at the back of the keeper’s head with utmost hatred. 

I have been locked here since I was conscious. I haven’t had the chance to go outside the window, to learn, or to experience. And you assume that I don’t have any potential to grow and should stay here being useless until death. How ridiculous!

“I hate you!” I shout to him.

He turns.

“Wow. So brave. I give you food and water. You don’t thank me but you hate me?” The anger in his eyes is rekindled.

He throws my cage onto the ground, and the deafening sound echoes in the room. I can’t even feel the pain now—I can’t even see things clearly, as the drop made me dizzy. The keeper picks up a hammer and throws it on me, nearly breaking my back. He swears and goes out, shutting the door. 

I lie on the ground for a long time, enduring the unbearable pain and waiting for it to end. “I shall never surrender!” I talk to myself determinedly. “The cage prevents me from chasing what I want to be and going to where I want to go. It deprives me of the right to speak up and to better reflect. It is obstructing me. I must break it!”

But how can I? The iron bars of the cage are extremely hard. I tried to hit the bars before, but what I got were only hurt fists.

I desperately sit down, and something on the ground catches my attention.

The hammer!

The keeper forgot to take it away.

It is late morning, and the keeper won’t come back until midnight. I know whatever I do during this period of time, he won’t be aware of it.

I stretch my arm to reach the hammer, and pull it to me.

I pick it up, and strike the iron bar with all my strength.

With each strike, I reflect.

Bang!

“My creativity is squandered by this cage. I don’t want to be controlled! I want to be on the green lawn, or somewhere farther away.”

Bang!

“The conversation of the three men was just like the iron bars of this cage. I was oppressed by such thoughts, but inside of my heart I knew these thoughts were just preoccupation. If you don’t allow people—the people whom you deem ‘inferior’ and ‘less experienced’—to speak up, you will always live in your own world, and that is very dangerous. Without different opinions, without diversity, society can never improve.”

Bang!

“Why worship what others worship? Why shy away from protesting? Why can’t I give my own opinions? Why should I stop doubting and questioning when I have well-contemplated ideas developed by my own reflection? Why believe the so-called experienced people and authority? Why can’t I choose what I want to believe? There’s no limit in thoughts, and there’s no rule for thinking! My soul is free, and I can think what I want. You can physically cage me, but you can never mentally enslave me!”

The hammer seems to be working. The shape of the iron bars are starting to be changed.

My hand starts to bleed again, but I do not cease striking the iron bars. Strangely, I don’t feel tired at all. I feel stronger, and my mind gets clearer. 

“I want freedom!”

…

The sun starts to go down.

Two of the iron bars are broken, and I am working on the third. I’m almost done. I can finally get out of this horrible cage.

Just two more hits from the hammer should do it.

Bang!

I hear hurried footsteps.

“Who’s that?” someone says.

Oh no. It’s the keeper. He is running toward the room. Why did he come back so early today?

He is approaching. My heart is beating fast. How can I get out of the room? There’s only one door! 

I don’t have time to think. I raise the hammer.

The last time.

Bang!

He comes in, and at the same time I quickly extricate myself through the bars of the cage. I used too much strength and the broken iron bars scratched my… 

My wings. 

I find that I have wings on my back. For my entire life, I wasn’t able to know I have wings on my back. The small cage restricted how much I can move, what I can see, and even my understanding of myself.

Some feathers are ripped off, but I can still feel the strength of my large wings.

“Don’t you dare!” The keeper gets flustered and exasperated, and runs to the shelf to get his gun.

There’s no time for me. I must risk it!

I flap my wings, anxiously looking around. If I run through the door, I will be caught. 

The window!
The window is open. 

Fly to the window!

Flap. Flap. Flap.

He is grabbing his gun.

Fly. You can fly. Fly out of it!

Flap!

I finally fly to the height of the window, quickly push myself through it, and am out of the room.  

I am so exhausted, but I must fly as far away as I can. 

I fly higher and higher.

The refreshing air fills my nose, and I know I am finally out of the cage. I’m never going back.

I see the beautiful sunset, coloring the sky yellow and orange. Ah! The sky of freedom, of infinity, is where I truly belong. Now, I am embracing what I have long been yearning for. 

I see the last rays of the sun from afar, glowing on the horizon. I know that as I fly, the stars will be glittering on the night sky, and tomorrow the sun will be shining even brighter.

So trivial is our life compared to the vastness of the sky. Why be defined by others? Why live others’ lives, why chase others’ goals? I shall live for pure happiness, not for others’ expectations; I shall chase freedom, and not blindly obey the rules; I shall refuse to be a coward shivering in front of the so-called “powerful,” for I am the only master of myself—my flesh, my heart, and my soul.