My Two Bits

Over the last couple of days I’ve read a lot of brilliant writing and some very poignant pieces on SlutWalk. Some rants, some personal experiences, all of them in support of an idea that needs to be addressed more than any other issue in our country. And proof of this need is the simple fact that there is more than one idiot out there who is still missing the point of the exercise, insisting on it being a publicity stunt and a demand for more attention.

So far I’ve been quiet on the whole issue, not because I didn’t support it, but because I didn’t believe I had anything of consequence to add to the topic. Today I realised that it’s not about how important my contribution is. What is important is that I speak out and stand by SlutWalk.

When people talk about women *dressing to attract* or *asking for it*, I’m taken back to when I was about 12 yrs old, a pre-teen, with the body of a girl and not a woman. It was evening and I was walking to an aunt’s home with my younger sister and mother. I remember I was wearing a t shirt 4 sizes too large for me and baggy shorts. The walk was a 7 minute one and through a busy residential area, never once taking us down lonely, isolated paths. Some 250 metres after we’d left our building, we were walking past a homeless looking man. And just as we crossed him, he reached out and caught hold of my arm, dragging me with him. Thankfully my mother had the presence of mind of scream out and hit him with her bag, after which he ran away. But that feeling of blind panic remained with me. Remains with me. I still remember being stunned and then feeling dirty. On reaching my aunt’s home I scrubbed my hand raw with soap and couldn’t stop crying. Why me, I asked my mother. For years after that every time I passed a man on the road I folded my arms and stepped a few feet away.

What had I done to attract that man? What would have happened if my mother had not happened to be there with me? Just getting my hand grabbed terrified me. Imagine what rape does. Oh forget physical contact. If you’re a woman reading this, just think back at all the times you’ve been whistled at or attracted a comment on the road. Then think of how you feel. I know my heart starts racing faster, in an ugly sort of manner and I hurry to get out of there, pretending to ignore the eve-teasers. And when you think of all those times you’ve been teased, look back at what you were wearing, how you were walking, whom you were with.

To a rapist it doesn’t matter. You could be in a burqa, you could be 12, you could be 60. Just because you’re a woman he thinks he can. Just because you’re a woman he thinks he’s allowed to. Just because our society believes the woman asks for it, he believes he’s not wrong. And because of this, girls are being blinded for resisting an attack on their body - an attack that strips her of every last bit of self, pushing her into a circle of fear, panic and trauma. And for what reason? Because men would rather find a hundred different reasons to defend their animalistic tendencies than accept the fact that they find it difficult to respect women? That men don’t consider this an issue that needs to be raised in every household in the country? Because just being a man absolves them of it all?

To all the men who think SlutWalk is a joke, I ask if you are comfortable sending your sisters, mothers, wives, daughters, girlfriends, aunts and cousins out alone on the roads of Delhi at night. The day you are confident none of them will be teased, touched or raped, then you have a right to talk about such issues with disdain.

To all the women who think SlutWalk is a joke, I ask, what are you afraid of? Or have you never been teased, touched or groped at in a crowd? If you have, then you will know how easy it is to hide behind silence. It takes courage to come out and talk about abuse. If you cant appreciate it, then shut up. Stay hidden behind your silence. Someday you might have the strength to come out and take a stand against something you believe in. I hope that day is soon.