Groper, Me Too.

To,

My Grop-er

Thank you for teaching me the inexorable lesson on  how to shatter the life of a girl in 3 secondsget on your bike, ride on an empty lane, spot a girl, grab her breasts, keep riding. Till you reach home and then use those hands to eat food your mother cooked, your mother who has breasts.

It’s hard to fathom the intense amount of pleasure you might have received in those 3 seconds you held a strangers breast. Or do you thrill on the idea that she will now have her arms crossed over her bosom shaking a little everytime a machine wheels in close. That she stays afraid even behind closed doors, afraid that taking her clothes off might leave her breasts a little too bare – a little too grope-able.

How do I explain it to you – imagine you are walking on a street and someone just clenched your genitals and ran off. And you could do nothing about it. Because it happens. It’s the way of the world – it’s a disadvantage you were born with – the gender you were born as. Or I am sorry if I assumed wrong – you might derive pleasure from the quick clench?

Groper, you might think – oh, this one’s so full of drama. It happens. SHE’S ACTING LIKE SHE IS THE ONLY ONE! And that’s why it is not okay, because I. AM. NOT. THE. ONLY. ONE.

Because 365 days of the year, in the East and West and North and South, your hands clench, twist, grab, punch, grope the flesh of another human being because that human is of a gender with two extra alphabets, because that human has shapes and curves.

But what can we do? What can I do? You will never see this letter, and by this time tomorrow, I don’t know how many more women you may have passed by in the many roads and bylanes of this country. Let me rephrase that, how many humans with curves and two extra alphabets to their gender.

 

So long,

The Groped.

 Now, the greater sister of our traumatization – the rape gets a little highlight now and then, a second page in the paper or maybe a quick-phased protest somewhere, just a little candle light till people’s minds remember a little less. But what about rape’s lesser known sisters- molestation, sexual assault, does it matter less when there isn’t a hole poked through us?

(Feminism is not a fight for superiority – maybe equality but most importantly for humanity. Women, we just wanted to be treated like the humans we were born)

 

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untitled.

 

 

If I would carve a being

Out of all the words

They have said of me

I would be terrified of her

 

When words were given us with a choice on syllables to utter

Why choose the syllables that injures souls

 

When we could live the day with thoughts that ignite a life

Why choose the thoughts that deny one

 

When there is so much yet to be unearthed by our fragile brains

Why choose to believe our futile knowledge is enough

 

When love is free and hate is sold at a price of tears and bombs and blood and guts

why choose the one that costs our soul

 

When we hold a book passed down through ages that we profess to hold true to,

That speaks of nothing but to learn to love the person next to us 

Why have we learnt none?

 

When we were all born of one Maker of one Hand one Heart

Why do we despise some Hearts,

Why do we feel like the Hands that made us were but one

And live like the Maker is ours alone.