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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that very second.

Even though we just met, it feels like you’re already mine. Like you always have been. Like you were always meant to be. And maybe it’s a tryst of fate, maybe its destiny, maybe its karma, maybe it’s just a right turn of events. The right word said at the right time followed with the right move but I am so glad, I was seated at that bench that beautiful Sunday afternoon when I came across your lovely soul. And I believe that was just where I was meant to be in this lifetime’s turn of events, at that particular month, at that day, at that hour, that very second when my eyes caught yours.

(image source)