i have to say it in words
while all he does is look-touch-feel;
making him un-ignorable
is my task
words are my refuge
from the battles of the street
battles fought on my body
with eyes, with fingers, with minds
words are my weapon
a weapon he cannot use
till someone hands them to him
in what he dares call a song
words are the vents
of anger, loathing, even pity;
they are the only tools i have
to gather us against him
Action Hero Erimentha
http://canace.blogspot.com
After reading through the various posts at this brilliant blog and sifting through my own experiences and bloody extractions,I have written this piece...
and it's still in process...
Smash smash smash.The satisfying sound of the glass crashing down .The time standing still for those few seconds .The liberation.The sexy crunch of the glass…
Ah…bliss.
But that feeling is too much to ask of this world. So I smash my mind instead .And heart doesn’t soar … Like it should at the sound of breaking rules. The smashed bloody mind just takes it silently… No fun there, I tell you!
I should be ‘losing control’ the way men on the bikes did in ‘Rang De Basanti’ .While the pretty girls cheered them on .Didn’t they make your body pulsate with what all that you want to do? Not mine though! I was too busy giving in to control.
Screams free you! They did that too Naseeruddin Shah in Hero Heeralal But what happens to the screams of the heroines?
Heroines…the babes who get raped and after some eve teasing fall in love and promptly touch the feet of the savior husband after the interval.
I am telling you there can be nothing as awe inspiring as the justice of the Hindi films. Nothing as spiritually elevating.
see it's like this-You sexually molest me and I fall in love with you instantly…okay?
And then I marry you and I look up to you all my life…okay? So what I have done is that I have begged you to save me from yourself…understood?
Also add to it some economics .Isn’t it more cost effective to rape me every night? After that genius stroke of ‘mangalsutra’ .Than to rape me just once in while. Also now you can focus on so many more freelance rapes…
Marriage is all about common sense, my love.
And believe me I am going to slap the next, educated person who complains about the aimless youth…especially men. Seriously, get a life dude!
Aimless? Unemployed? Look at all the hard work that they put in.
First they decide what a beautiful woman should look like
Small waist. Toned thighs Cute ass? The poor men …they have to constantly decide whether bigger is better…or maybe it should be small and firm… then...Smooth skin…no pimples…not dark
Not too big, not too small, not too sagging, not too perked up- breasts.
And if you feminist… loser… loner whatever shit they call you these days
Don’t come up to the standards they have to fail you and you can curl up in your bed alone and let your heart shrivel up. And this is just in short what all they have to keep an eye on.
Then the other group swings in action . See.they are men and therefore practical so they divide the work amongst them …fine?
So the other groups sit in various, inconvenient, uncomfortable places like buses and roads nd offices and homes .And then they have to pinch, grope, maul, twist, slap
and do all that physically excruciating work … because the bloody women always look enticing…
And they have to do that
You think it’s fun for them.
You think they enjoy this.
They ask irritably and wearily.
And I feel sorry for the poor darlings
Can they help it…that unfortunate hard-on and all that
When they see anything that resembles a woman
And they must despite themselves
do all of the above.
Please understand na,
They are men…
What can they do?
Yesterday i was watching Madagascar and the most fantastic part of the film according to me is where Alex the lion is frantic with worry and he cages himself and asks himself and later his Zebra friend if he is really a monster...with all the hunger that is killing him and all the temptations around he is petrified of himself....and I wondered if any of the molestors have had that dillemma ...are they actually monsters from inside?
Alex the lion won the battle with his monster self by the way...
Action Hero Silbil
http://nandinikablog.blogspot.com
I see a kid shine in her eyes. She beats me at who-has-most-scars-on-the-body. She has them all, broken bones, stitches, bruises, even dog bites and scratches. “Of course” she says with a grin, “I can’t show you how many scars I gave those dogs.”
The dogs who violated the woman in her, she couldn’t hurt them back. How she wishes.
How I wish.
Action Hero Namit Chaturvedi
http://chaturvedi.blogspot.com
Hello mister pervert,
Remember me? I often bump into you on the street. In fact, we met twice today; once in the morning when I made my way to work and you complimented me on my dark goggles and fair complexion by singing a line of a Hindi film song, and then in the evening when you invited me to a bagiya.
Okay, now that you recollect who I am, let me take this opportunity to thank you for umpteen gifts you have bestowed on me. Let me beign with the gift of early revelation. I remember meeting you for the first time when I was around 12. It was a hot summer afternoon and I was walking back from a video store when you gave me the first ever glimpse of a wee-wee. Thanks ever so much for helping me grow up before time.
Mister ageless man, thanks for always being around. Friends may come and go, but you have always been there. Giving me that look as I walked back from school, making me run past the dark alley after a late tution class, whistling when I rushed for an early morning lecture with hair still wet, twitching my breast as I walked with my mother, trying to rub against me in a crowded bus...you have never let me feel unwanted.
Thanks for scaring my family. You also get the credit for ridding me of three girlfriends whose marriage I could not attend as my family feared you would make an appearance as I got back home. Yeah, and that rafting trip I could never take, thanks to you, old pal.
Mister man-from-no-particular-social-strata, you are also the one to be thanked for putting me off boys in my teens. You made sure I never went for moon-lit walks, I never ate ice cream on the green-dewy lawns of India Gate at midnight, I stayed home on the eve of millennium, and I never wasted time on a lot of other such meaningless experiences.
After all it is my fault that I am a girl. A girl who needs to be safe. A girl who needs to think three times before visiting a friend late in the evening. A girl who has learned to inwardly smile at lewd invitations for a quickie behind the wall. A girl who is looked at as an object. And, you are the man of suppressed desires and overflowing frustration. You need an outlet. I understand. However, I do not want you to meet my future daughter. Do you understand? I do not want you to scare my little girl out of her wits while she is on a trip to Vaishno Devi with her friends. I do not want you to soil my daughter's fond memories of the first kiss. I will not let you. Today, I promise myself that I'll take the first small but meaningful step to ensure my future child's safety. I will call 1091 the next time I see you.
Action Hero Mystic Chick
http://mysticchick.blogspot.com
She was ten. Brushing her bobbing pigtails one extra time, she patted them down. White, with pink and purple flowers. This was her favorite frock.
Everyone said he was very smart. One day, maybe, you will also go to IIT, they used to tell to her. She couldn’t wait to grow up and be like him. Ravi was her favorite cousin. Always brought her chocolates. Cadbury Eclairs. And took her on piggy-back rides and made her giggle. And when mum wasn’t around, he would sneak her off to get ice cream. Butterscotch.
She sat next to him on the edge of the bed, feet dangling and swinging, and showed him her new painting. I won the second prize for it, she said, her face beaming with pride. That’s very nice. You know, those flowers on your dress are very nice too, he said, as he started to trace their outlines. His fingers slowly ran up her thigh.
She did not want to grow up and be like him. She did not want to grow up.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………
Written as part of the Blank Noise Blog-a-thon 2006. Although, since this isn’t about street harassment, which is the topic of the blog-a-thon, I am not entirely sure if it qualifies.
Sexual harassment and abuse of children younger than twelve years old constitutes a good percentage of the total reported cases. And yet, the available statistics hardly reflect reality. A large number of children don’t even know how to identify abuse, forget report it. Even more so, when the abuser is a family member.
As adults, we have some ways to oppose harassment. Whether we do or not, is a different matter. But we can yell, scream, try to fight back physically and attempt to raise awareness about it. But what does a child do? Their inherent trust in adults, their fear to question their motives and actions, and their own inability to distinguish between right and wrong often leaves them powerless.
Update : Some contact numbers (Thanks Rajesh and Peter, for the info!)
If you know or suspect that a child is being abused, talk to you local authorities or call
In the US — Stop It Now! at 1-888-PREVENT or The Sexual Abuse Helpline at 1-800-4A-CHILD.
In India — Childline at 1098.
Other countries — Check the Child Helpline International website.
Action Hero Megha
http://www.meghalomania.com
I used to feel that they’d always intimidate me.
That no matter how old I grew, however wise or however brave, I wouldn’t be able to get over that feeling. It’s hard to describe it – I wouldn’t call it fear, for I was never scared of them. Rather, it was a mixture of indignation, intimidation and sadly, even shame. So I’d always be on my guard in busy places, markets, parks, cinema halls – eyes alert, arms firmly by my side, hoping that I wouldn’t feel that purposeful grip or brush against my body – that unsanctioned touch that infuriated me but which I knew I’d do nothing about. They intimidated me, you see.
That was then.
In time, I made a strange discovery, one that I hadn’t ever thought possible to be a fact – They were cowards. Inside, they were nothing more than small minded , mouse like, sleazy, cowards. It happened one day when I was walking on a busy footpath. Coming towards me from the opposite direction was a man who seemed intent to walk right into me, despite there being ample space on the either side of me. Attempting to stem the discomfort that was beginning to rise in me, I decided to try a new strategy – I continued walking, raised my head high, shoulders straight back and looked at him. Right into his two eyes. Square. He met my gaze for a while but didn’t hold it for too long. He slowed his pace, the leer on his face began to fade away, he looked away, and stepped out of my way. Not for one moment till we’d passed each other did I break eye contact with him.
I realised that day, that they were not worth the dignity my meekness had been granting to them. In a way, that day changed my life. After athat, when I detected intimidation rising in my chest, I’d dispell it immediately with the memory of the coward.
They say you win half the battle when you’ve conquered fear of it. I was determined not to shut up and swallow humiliation anymore – in buses, on streets, in trains, busy market places because I hated what my silence , our silence , had done for them. Small, mouse-like , sleazy cowards. It had elevated them to heights of bravado and arrogance that they did not have in them to achieve in any other way. I decided I wasn’t going to be part of it anymore and I was always going to make a scene.
And so I did.
“ Thik se khade nahi reh sakte bus mein?” (can’t you stand properly in a bus?) I’d yell loudly for all to hear. And I’d watch as he shuffled his feet, mumbled something incoherently, and looked away, keeping a great deal of a distance from me now.
“Move your hand, I have to sit here” I once said loudly to an elderly man sitting next to me in a train, who most coincidently always placed his hand on the seat I was going to sit in before I sat in it.
Old men, young men, middle aged men, married men, high school boys, fathers, grandfathers. I felt I was going to run out of puke.
“If you touch me again, I’ll break your bloody hands and then take you to the principal” – this was a college canteen waiter who most unfortunately picked the wrong person to get funny with. I never saw him after that – the man who would lie in wait for me to walk down the corridoor so he could walk past me every day. This was one of the most satisfying days of my life. There were so many people I knew sitting there– students, laboratory assistants, teachers – I felt like just shutting up and just forgetting about it, shoving it to the back of my head. But I couldn’t. My mind wouldn’t let me – it kept reminding me of what this kind of attitude had done for women in my country - Are you going to be part of the problem or the solution, Nayan? - It seemed to scream at me. I had to make a scene.
It angers me so much now when I see women on streets, in buses, movie halls, shopping malls, trains being harrassed either verbally or physically and keeping their mouths shut. It happens everywhere – they just shut up, forget about it, push it away from their minds. They begin to accept it as a part of their ‘lot’ by virtue of being a woman. It makes my blood boil.
And yet, there are times I feel that perhaps I’m wrong in thinking like this – after all, it isn’t easy to face one’s fears. And who am I to decide that all women must /are obliged to behave in a way I deem right. There are so many dimensions to the problems and so many sub-issues involved here, the biggest one being the socio-cultural set up in India that moulds the two sexes in different ways – something I believe responsible for most, if not all our country’s problems today.
“India has finally arrived” , Boink said to me. And that set me thinking. Bush is here with flowers, the arm of friendship, and the offer of collaboration. Our GDP rises steadily, Economy’s going great guns, Sensex breaks new barriers every fortnight, Indian techies seem to be the need of the hour, women have revolutionised themselves with jobs, security, money – independence.
The tragedy is – the mindset seems to be unchanged. Inspite of all the liberation and emancipation, we’re still intimidated. Intimidated by small-minded, mouselike, sleazy, cowardly men.
It would be laughable if it weren’t so sad.
Action Hero Mriganayanii
http://mriganayanii.blogspot.com
I was waiting at a crowded metro station for the train to come. It was hot and sultry, my shirt was sticking to my back. I was dreading the jostle that would follow the arrival of the train. My companion was oblivious; she seemed not to have a care in the world. The crowd did not daunt her the way it got to me. How I envied her!
I hate traveling in crowded public transport in India. So many times, I have picked up a fight. I remember an educated young guy, who was sitting too close for my comfort in a bus, telling me to travel by auto when I objected and asked him to move aside. Another time, I just took a cigarette from a guy’s hand and threw it out of the bus window because he would not stop smoking even after repeated requests. There have been wandering hands (on so many occasions) in my direction and my loud protests, even an occasional pushing away someone rudely and physically. All these scenes were passing through my mind while I was waiting.
Finally, the train arrived and I moved along with my friend to board it. Somehow, we were the first few people to get inside. I was bracing myself to face the crowd as they started pouring in. My jaws dropped up to my knees as I found people, guys actually, tiptoeing around me to get in.
No, I was not dreaming. I was boarding the train in Singapore (it was way back in 1999) and it was my first ever visit abroad. Having experienced only the Indian crowd (which is rowdy in most of the cities, apart from a few exceptions) I expected the same hassles there. My friend had been staying in Singapore for the past three years and thus was totally unconcerned.
How I wish this scene would become true of India in my lifetime, but I have very little hope.
This post is part of the Blank Noise's Blog-a-thon 2006
Action Hero Mridula
http://www.gonomad.com/traveltalesfromindia
the Blog-A-Thon
She was going to her friend's house for a night over. She was almost there - just had to round the corner, when she saw four of them walking - two on one side of the road, and two on the other. They seemed to fairly young guys, talking loudly and singing popular songs. The road was empty, but well lit. She brushed away the semi-reflexive fears that jumped up in her mind. After all - the road was well lit and she was almost there. What would be the point in turning back and taking an alternate route and she was on a bicycle...
She picked up speed - trying to race through the four of them. Each person seemed to be a part of a well co-ordinated group. One after another, they grabbed her breasts - left, right, left, right. She turned into her friend's house, totally dazed. She hated her shirt. Hated it.
What could she tell her mom, when asked why her shirt was so dirty? Her Shirt? She felt so dirty. Could you wash me in the washing machine too, mom? Dry sobs...
Mom's reaction : I shall get a new shirt. This has become too tight, anyways. And you should know to dress up according to your surroundings. (where did that come from?!!!)
Brother's reaction : I shall drop you and pick you up from school tomorrow. (Will you follow me whereever I go? What if I want to go some place alone?)
Father's reaction : Discomfort about the topic on the whole, followed by a quick exit out of the house for a long walk. (Dont tell me that all men are alike! - I dont want to believe that!!!)
Her reaction(s)
for the remaining two years of high school : Wouldnt go to tuition classes through short cuts, wouldnt go out anywhere after dark alone.
through three years of bachelors degree : took the ladies special buses as much as she could.
through two years of masters : wouldnt date anybody
after coming to the US : broke up with an absolutely amazing person. couldnt let him touch her. The memories still clung, washed up her entire being in waves of repulsiveness...
nearly 15 years and two masters degrees later : Martial arts...
How many women have the chance of pursuing the skills they feel they need to survive in this world? How many women want to live a life of their own, long for an independent identity? How many men will look beyond blobs of fat at the differents parts of the female anatomy? How many parents will actively teach their children to respect the personal space of other beings and to stand up for themselves, if their space is threatened?
Her parents now want her to get married. They dont want her to run (too much sports will cause hormonal problems...). They do not know that she practices martial arts... How much longer do we have to walk this road alone?
Moral support is the least I can give right now. With you all the way!
Action Hero Moonlit Rainbows
http://moonlitrainbows.blogspot.com
I know I am late for The Blank Noise blogathon, but better late than never, right? This blogathon is to raise awareness and help prevent Eve-teasing, Street harassment and Abuse.
I bumped into this Blogathon by chance and was quite surprised by the subject, considering that its pretty taboo and not that very well discussed, even though we are a ‘progressive’ urban society. But after reading through quite a few blogs, surprisingly some written by men too, I was shocked and jolted by the experiences. Shocked not because I could not believe of what these women went through, rather surprised by the fact that these women went through the exact same things that I have been going through, since my rite of passage! It was a revelation, considering that inspite of being from differences cities, towns, educational backgrounds, class, status, none of us escaped being physically and mentally abused. Be it cat calls, being stalked, groped, flashed, jeered, rubbed into, pushed, pulled, threatened, abused, beaten, jolted, ridiculed; the trend was frighteningly similar.
For many, eve teasing seems like a very harmless sport. C’mon every one of us has flirted or joked around with the opposite sex sometime. But where do we draw the line? When does it turn into abuse from harmless flirting?
I guess that’s where we all need to be taught, enlightened and disciplined. When people take effort to teach us the way to eat, write, walk, learn, think and even talk right, then why can’t we teach how to identify abuse and face it?
The world is a scary place, but each one of you feels safe in this cocoon hoping that as long as it doesn’t happen to us, we don’t need to be bothered. I guess this false hope of safety is what has led women to be this brutally abused EVERYDAY. If my parents, relatives or teachers had warned me about these perverts and their evil tricks I would have been prepared the first time I was groped, instead of feeling dirty, demeaned, ashamed, angry, and cheap about my body, doubting what had I done wrong? I wouldn’t have been scared shit when a freak followed me back from school if someone on the street had seen my plight and come to my rescue. I wouldn’t have been embarrassed and disgusted if my college management and police had done something to stop the flashers and eve teasers out side my college! If only I was safe, I wouldn’t have been this broken, shit scared woman who grows apprehensive when the sun goes down, who would rather spend a bomb on autos than take a bus home, who wouldn’t go to late night movies, restaurants, parties and even mid-night masses without a male escort, who would have to pick me up and drop me back home.
But then inspite of all the fear, anger, helplessness, shame, ignorance, self-doubt, disgust, agony and anger, I have made an effort to stand up to these perverts.
If someone touched me now without my permission, I would beat the living day lights out of that bastard, like I did on my trip back to Bangalore from Mangalore, a year back. I had to resort to beating him because; inspite of repeatedly complaining to my aunt about this guy who was feeling me up from the ‘front seat’ in a bus full of sleeping people, my aunt asked me to ignore him and I did. But there’s only that much a girl can stand. When that bastard didn’t stop inspite of my angry retorts, I pulled out my water bottle, stood up and beat the hell out of that guy. The bus was stopped, the conductor came running, I narrated what happened, people woke up from their slumber and grumbled, my aunt seemed embarrassed (can you believe that?), I looked at that creep trembling with fear and he seemed to be just a ‘college kid’!!!
And even after everything that had happened, the conductor asked me not to make a fuss and ‘disturb’ my fellow passengers!
I was fuming with rage. People didn’t support me, my own aunt did not come to my rescue, the conductor asked me to hush and sit tight, but none of this mattered, because when I reached Bangalore, I was a new woman, a stronger, braver, redeemed woman. That one moment of retaliation wiped away all the pain, anger, shame, anguish and disgust of the earlier abuse. It was a start and I have never been sorry about it. But even today I can’t forgive my aunt for not backing me up!
From then on I haven’t been afraid to walk with my head held high rather then fold my hands across my chest, scare these pricks away with a glare when earlier I wouldn’t even look up, now I resort to screaming and self-defence rather than walking away and sometimes even helping out other women.
A faint ray of hope is that when I tell my mom about this, she is proud of me and backs me up. Thanks Mom for understanding and encouraging me to face the world, one less grope at a time.
But this doesn’t mean that I am still a free bird. I follow every rule in the book.
Don’t go out alone after dark.
Avoid lonely streets.
Don’t talk to strangers.
Don’t wear revealing clothes and accessories, which draw attention.
Don’t pick up fights unnecessarily.
Always know your limits and dangers.
Always be alert and on guard.
Save emergency numbers on the phone.
Grow longer nails.
And never ever forget to pack your courage and presence of mind, while stepping out of home.
Anyways now back to the point of this Blogathon- Awareness.
Keeping this is mind, I forwarded a few of these blogs to my friends and colleagues, and I was quite taken back by the response. While most women recognized with the experiences in the blogs, most men seemed genuinely surprised that women actually go through this kind of abuse everyday and everywhere. This either shows that men just turn a blind eye and justify these atrocities or they were truly never aware of mistreatment of women. But I have intentionally skipped the third category, they being perverted themselves!
I don’t know if I can change the minds of those who justify eve teasing or they themselves part take in it, but through my experiences and hundreds of other women’s blogs, I can at least enlighten the ignorant of the atrocities meted out to their mothers, daughters, sisters, wives, friends, nieces, girl friends, aunts, babies and even grand mothers on a daily basis.
That’s the reason I am writing this blog. And for those of you who are rolling their eyes thinking ‘oh c’mon not one more of those Women’s day feminists’, let me make this clear that I am not here for male bashing or asking for any kind of reservation for women. I am here to plead for a life without constant fear. I am asking for the most basic of rights, the right to self respect and dignity.
I am not going to discuss what provokes these perverts, how they are mis-guided by the media, society and peers or why men think the way they think . Darn I don’t even want to know how many meters of clothing a woman should wear to avoid being eve teased?
All I want is a little awareness and acknowledgement of the fact that these atrocities happen, right under the noses of the family, friends, police, public and government. Not many women complain because they are scared, ashamed, embarrassed, discouraged, lose hope and give up and those who complain are harassed by the bureaucracy and red tape . I can guarantee you that every single woman in India has been molested atleast ONCE! Most of us, millions who travel venture out of our homes daily to ply by public transport, pass through streets, shopping malls, colleges, schools, temples, churches, markets, layouts and in every damn god forsaken public place, we are abused day in and day out. I cant even begin to imagine what happens among poor, illiterate women in villages and cities!
Men should be privileged that you do not encounter perverted pricks out to harass you sexually, daily. They are not waiting for you on lonely streets, in bus stands, grouped under a tree, behind the tinted glass of the passing car, riding on bikes and cycles, in the bus’, trains, autos, taxis and not every shadow or foot steps evoke fear and terror in you all the time.
You men are lucky to have privileges like taking a long peaceful walk on a moonlit night, watching late night movies, eating out in a restaurant post 9, traveling alone at 2 am, getting a breathe of fresh air in your own compound or terrace, all these are just mere routine for men, but an impossible dream for Indian women!
I know that things won’t change overnight and India will not turn into heaven immediately, but we can make a start somewhere. That’s why I request all you men and women to try and follow a few basic rules:
Women, there is no point in a few of us screaming for justice and dignity, if you yourselves do not take any initiative. I have seen so many of my friends, family and strangers bear the abuse silently and do not even muster enough courage to glare at the offender or even ask for help! Most of the abuse is spoken about, only after the guys walk away and its too late!
I know that every one of these women, has never been able to forget the snigger of those perverts, the lust in their eyes or have never stopped fearing the approaching hand. I am sure that their bodies and minds still feel dirty and no amount of shudders and baths can take away that feeling of disgust . They still vent their anger at their helplessness and ignorance. But there is no point in belated fury, while you let that bastard walk away?
So wake up, take control of your bodies and be on guard.
Scream, fight, scratch, slap, cry, castrate or just plain abuse them. Use any weapon that you can; be it safety pins, chilly powder, nails, teeth, pepper spray, water bottles, bags, umbrellas or karate, do not hesitate. People may or may not help you, police may save or harass you, your companion may turn away or your own family may hush you, but don’t let them stop you. Believe me even though that man did abuse you, you will have the satisfaction of fighting back against that ass hole and made sure that the he will think atleast million times before he abuses another girl.
I know how scary it is to face these perverts; I know how humiliating it is to tell people that someone just grabbed your breasts or tell your dad that a stranger just brushed against you. But girl you have to do it, to save yourself and others from being raped every day, piece by piece, part by part, inch by inch, before there is nothing left of your dignity, self respect, courage, education, talent or emotions. You will just be a empty shell of a woman, believing that you are just another set of boobs, ass and vagina!
So girls do something, do anything.
Next comes Family, you have the biggest responsibility. Why is it that when parents and elders can warn their kids against taking food from strangers or scare kids about being kidnapped, cant explain what kind of abuse men are capable of?
What stops you- shame? How does your embarrassment to explain these things, help your kid who has just been groped and doesn’t understand why she feels so dirty and disgusted? How does your denial to educate your kid save him or her from self doubt and low self esteem?
You have no right to have kids if you can’t provide, protect and educate them.
And a kind request to all those friendly, out going and easy to mingle aunts and uncles, do not let your kids sit or play with strangers and acquaintances. Don’t just trust people blindly. Always ask your sons and daughters about anything strange that they have encountered and always be on guard. It’s your duty to protect your kids, lest something unforgivable happens.
Of course last but not at all the least, support and trust your sons and daughters, rather than doubting them. They are your flesh and blood, your hopes and dreams, the object of your love and affection, the least you can do is take their side and, heed and lead.
Public support can help curb a lot of evils be it robbery, assault or abuse. Support the victim and not the perpetrator. Most timid public, like the ones in Bangalore would rather be silent by-standers than active supporters. All it takes is a little initiative, a little intervention; all it takes is one helping hand or a raised voice.
So please spread the word and make it clear to people that things like this do happen whether its in Forum Mall or City Market. Only awareness can lead to prevention and hopefully even eradication. At least this won’t give the snobbish, blind, self righteous pricks a chance to hush these things up and pretend nothing happened or claim that women brought this up on themselves!
I don’t exactly feel proud to ask men for help but fathers, brothers, uncles, grandpa’s, friends and boy friends, it is your duty to take care of us girls, protect us, educate us, support us, help us and prevent these perversions. And of course teach your sons, grandsons, brothers, nephews and friends to respect women and please do not encourage abuse.
When I narrated these horrors to one of my closest friends, he was shocked, hurt and apologetic. I know how most of you men must feel when we started revealing our painful ordeals. Remember that we are not generalizing and we are definitely not blaming you all. We know that there are a few good men, rare but they are there. And it is because of these few good men, women still trust men and muster courage to brave that crowded bus, markets, streets, malls, fests, schools and colleges,knowing that inspite of these evil creeps, there are a few good men who will come to their rescue.
Lastly I salute the undying spirit and strength of women, who rise like a Phoenix no matter how many times her will and dignity are trampled on.
I was always proud to be a woman, today I am prouder because of you few brave women . Thanks to the Blank noise for initiating this drive and spreading awareness.
Please remember, support the victim, not the abuser!
Action Hero L*J
http://emptycage.blogspot.com
A Monday morning rush on the public transport of your choice, a visit to a popular temple, an evening spent shopping at a well known mall, a quiet evening at one's favourite coffee shop, at the theatres…. Name the place, you always find one common thread that binds all these places together in a shameful truss – eve teasing.
Eve teasing or Street harassment not only is it widely prevalent, but most of the society takes it for granted. Groping, catcalling, whistles, lewd comments, staring…. The list is endless. What makes me angry is that the patriarchal setup that we live in makes it seemingly 'normal' and accepted'. The so called 'societal norms' puts the onus on the woman. There are 'acceptable' clothes that a woman can wear or cannot wear. The clothes that a woman might wear can be considered provocative. "Do not wear this unless you want to invite trouble on the streets." I have heard this many a number of times spoken to a woman. I feel disgusted that such is that state of things. Sexual harassment on the streets is a crime and 'eve' teasing must stop.
My head gets into so many states of contemplation when an incident of street harassment happens around me. Should I stand up and fight? Should I merely form a part of the muted audience? Should I rationalize my inaction by accepting that it is normal? Should I report this to the authorities? By doing this would I be simply piling my responsibility to fight against injustice onto the authorities, the outcome of which I almost surely know? Should I just pretend that it never happened and vindicate myself by saying that I do not harass women, so it is ok for me to not get involved? And trust me; it has happened enough times to make me want to puke.
There's this one particular incident that stands starkly in my mind as a colossal monument among ruins. It was nearly nine in the night, raining heavily and I was hurrying down a quite popular road in Bangalore so as to not be late for the dinner with friends. The intensity of the downpour increased and I was forced to take shelter. There were nearly fifty people taking refuge. There were quite a few women and I started noticing that few of the ladies started leaving the comfort of the shelter even though the rain had not let up. Then I noticed what was happening. There were a group of men who were moving around, scoping out the women and feeling them up. I also noticed that quite a few people among the men were also bearing witness to this act of monstrosity. I did not know what to do. I was shocked, angry and surprised at my own inability to speak up and act when push came to shove. Then, something happened that would be etched in my mind forever. It took the clichéd lady in red to act up. There was a 'thaaaaaap', followed by swear words that one would normally use while driving, that rose above the din of thunder. My protagonist had given it back to the wrong doers. And then the crowd took it up and there were quite a few blows dealt with, finally leading to the 'group of men' fleeing into the rain. I was relieved. Lady, whoever you are, wherever you are, you are my hero. This one incident has put my mind to rest when dealing with such incidents. I need to ask myself just this one question. Would I want this to happen to me?
Eve teasing and sexual harassment of woman on the streets is just is not normal in any sensible value system. It has to be fought against vehemently and it is not a battle of man vs. woman. The society has to redefine its values on sexuality and sexual relationships.
Not so cheerful about the current state of affairs,
Laks
A moment comes, which comes but rarely in history, when we step out from the old to the new, when an age ends and when the soul of a nation, long suppressed, finds utterance. - Nehru
Action Hero Lakshminarasimhan Srini
http://innuce.blogspot.com
Being a female bike rider in a city like Mumbai is difficult. Let me specify on the onset, I don’t mean to say that it’s not enjoyable in its own way…but there are number of incidences that have saddened me to the state of my city. Being a female driver in a city itself teaches you a lot but it tends to get a bit overboard when a woman enters the so-called male domain of biking. Not a day goes by when someone is not staring at you blankly, and there are times that I get a number of hoots and cat calls, then there are guys who try and drive faster than you and try and distract you my pretending to bang into you, then there are some nuts on the road who simply scream “Baby, can I get a lift!”.
I feel like sometimes running the scooter over them…but all I can respond with is a cold stare. And it’s not like I cannot do anything…it’s just that…it won’t make any difference to them.
Ditto is the case with trains. I wish there was a way in which countries around the world could be judged by the way they treat their women. When you have a separate coach for Men and Woman for a local travel…it says a lot about society and state of affairs. I’m sickened by the way women are exploited when they just get into a Men’s compartment by mistake…No effort is spared for to wipe your hands on the ‘prized possession’ that has had the misfortune to enter the wrong coach. With that, one may argue, that Men are not at fault because she was in the wrong coach. But, hell in Mumbai we’ve had instances of a teenage handicapped girl being raped in the first class compartment of Borivali fast. The number of thefts of gold jewelry and snatching of purses is as common as the frequency of the trains themselves. Ditto with the stone pelting. Related to the station was one more instance that happened not so long ago on Andheri station. A drunken man was beating his girlfriend black and blue in full view on a local station, and nobody came forward to help that girl. She collapsed on the station and the news was in the papers for a day and then forgotten.
Why is this the way it is? I won’t talk about any other place but Mumbai because I think Mumbai is one the most forward societies in the entire of India. Why does this continue…and why are people OK with it? Why don’t they speak up?
And…I’ve to confess. Once upon a time, I was a Feminist. But now I’ve come to realize how important the balance and respect between both the sexes is. Why can’t men respect women and their integrity and vice versa. What does the man groping a woman in a public place prove…that is stronger and more powerful? It’s sad because I think he did it…not because he wanted to…but because he knew he COULD do it and get away with it.
Action Hero Komal Mehta
http://meriawazsuno.blogspot.com
Annie writes
Streets, stories, strategies
I had my doubts about blogging this - writing about street harrassment.
After all, it's as common-place as paan stains, as ubiquitous as spit.... Will my saying 'NO' to harrassment prevent it? How does telling my stories serve any purpose?
[…]
What did I do?
Nothing. I kept walking on, beside my brother.... My 17-year old brother who might have picked a fight if I'd told him.... What could I have told him?... It was too late anyway. The crowds had swallowed all of us up so completely.
For the whole post which is definitely readable, visit
I think this is a very courageous effort by Annie to write about it. All of us women, know that it happens. But a sense of dirtiness/guilt/embarrassment prevents us from talking about it openly.
My first bad experience was when I was 13 in Mysore. We had gone for the Dusshera fair at the Palace and in that crowd, someone grabbed me. This had never hapenned to me before. As a young teen I had absolutely no idea what had hapenned or how to react (especially coming from a small town where every1 knew every1 & hence "behaved") The crowd was so dense that I could not identify the disgusting bastard who had squeezed me.
The physical pain was just one part of it. The mental & emotional confusion lasted much much longer. It wasn't something u could discuss with your dad or your mom. Why worry them when there was nothing that they could do about it?
I've had to face this silent oppressment from unknown men in a lot of cities after that. Delhi is the worst oppressor since women have no status at all and every man is related to a politician or a policeman. Mumbai perverts have a free run because of the anonymity of the crowds.
In Delhi, I was most comfortable when I wore the most unshapen clothes & covered up in umpteen layers. I recently heard the true story of a call centre cab being chased and smashed by a sumo full of haryanvi jats. The only occupants of that cab were the driver and a long haired male employee. Only after they had smashed the cab did the "men" realise that it was a male employee & left (note left not fled) the scene.
In mumbai the local trains and transport systems offer the worst security. Sometimes U feel a ladies compartment isn't enough. We need a ladies platform or a ladies only station.
I now have the luxury of travelling in my car with my driver. In general the Mumbai male is polite and respectful, but something happens to him when he is in a crowd. Unlike a mob mentality, it is the anonymity of the whole process that lends courage to him & he behaves like a depraven disgusting piece of shit who doesn't deserve to walk the face of this earth.
What have I learnt ?
i have learnt to walk with my elbows sticking out at the waist & give a really hard shove to anyone who walks too close to me.
I have learnt to scream & shout in overnight buses {where men with extra long hands think its easy fun to paw a woman (in the seat in front or at the side or when walking down the aisle) } until the conductor either gets the man off the bus or the man is humiliated in public to an extent that he will think 10 times before doing it again.
Some of my aunts who would rather not bring attention to themselves, keep themselves armed with large safety pins & draw blood from wandering hands.
The problem in Chennai buses is so bad that some bus operators don't accept women travelling alone even if u r willing to book 2 tickets.
So conditioned have I become to this roving hands phenomenon, that I am extremely uncomfortable on packed flights when I have checked in late & had to sit between 2 men, that I spend the whole flight literally with my arms wrapped around myself. I'm still paranoid & cant feel comfortable resting my arms on the armrests on these pokey seats. I think its time to reserve ladies seats on flights too.
I havent' had a bad experience on a flight yet, but it could be because of the no-nonsense expression on my face. But yes u do have the occassional co-passenger whose head drops 2 the side when he is catching a short nap & u never know if it is deliberate or intentional so U wake him up never the less & tell him to stick to his side of the seat.
I have had worse expereinces in my earlier days. They have become almost nil now. Whether its because :
- there are younger & better looking prey available
- I have a no-nonsense or I'll punch u HARD in the Face or worse in the Groin look about me.
- I have become more cautious & consciously avoid putting myself into risky situations. (waiting for 3 more trains to pass although I might b late for my morning meeting)
At least now I am not subject to the guilt & frustration of being a woman in India.
Action Hero Kim
http://muserkim.blogspot.com
Blank Noise is hosting a Blog-a-thon on street harassment and I have decided to contribute. However, for me to narrate all the stories, I would have to start another blog. Hence, I am going to stick to those incidents that have made wish I lived in a country such as Saudi Arabia where these street bastards would have their hands and other parts of their anatomy chopped off for their atrocities.
- First incident that I recollect every time I think of harassment is the one that occurred when I was probably eleven. While I tried to climb into a train, a hand shot in from no where and grabbed my still-flat chest. I was old enough to understand that what had happened was very wrong – but I was very young to disclose this to my parents. It was not until I was 14-15 years old that I could actually talk about such incidents with my friends and parents.
-We were a group of 6-7 kids in the neighborhood all below the age of twelve. We would go out to the play ground to play cops and robbers. A fat-old-dark guy in a grey safari suit and sunglasses that were gold rimmed would ride into the playground on his pistachio colored scooter and gratify himself in front of all of us. This happened more than a dozen times and it was only after we grew up that my sister and I realized what he used to do.
- My sister and I had gone to watch a movie and right when we were pushing into the crowd to enter the hall, I feel a sharp piercing pain in my thigh. A needle had been pierced into my thigh and taken out just as I screamed. We had no idea who did it and what could be a possible reason for such inhuman behavior.
- While I sleep happily in the middle tier of a train compartment, I am woken up by a sensation on my chest. When I open my eyes, I see a hand from the lowest berth groping me. Sad thing – the guy looked decent and educated – looks are VERY often deceptive.
- My cousin and I were watching a movie. In the middle of the movie I feel something grope me. It’s a hand that finds way between the tiny gap of two seats.
- My cousin and were walking down the street after a haircut. A cyclist decides to grope me from behind and we are unable to do anything.
- My friend and I are walking down a street that is considered “safe” and a motorist drives by whacking my back and causing me to fall – just for the fun of it.
- I was riding my scooter to my college and another scooter comes at me from ahead. As I try to move out of his way, he makes sure he comes head on and pushes my scooter with his foot. I fall off the scooter - badly bruising myself and my ankle and my new shoes.
My friends and I were returning from our music class and all of a sudden two hands clutch my neck from behind and let go within a few seconds – for NO REASON.
These incidents do not cover even 10 percent of what I have experienced on the horrible streets of this city. Since the time I started driving a car with my tinted windows rolled up all the time, I have not experienced any physical distress. However, the cat calls and the whistles and verbal obscenities still continue to occur. On the one hand, these incidents have made me alert and strong. I am always careful now and I am ready for a fight. On the other hand, they have made me feel shameful and embarrassed. These incidents have marred my otherwise beautiful childhood. It is extremely heartbreaking that these incidents will probably make me an over protective, obsessive parent.
[Please send a mail to blurtblanknoise@gmail.com if you’d like to participate.]
Action Hero Keya
http://keyasmusings.blogspot.com
After I agreed to participate in Blank Noise's Blog-A-Thon 2006, I felt like a politically-correct poser. My knowledge of street harassment was a big zero. Why? Well, first of all, I am a man. That alone accounts for 99.5% of my ignorance.
Have I ever not boarded a crowded train out of the fear of being groped? No. Have I ever not boarded an empty train out of the fear of being groped? Why, no! Are you kidding me, it's not how we men are trained to think.
What's more, my wife, my mother and my sister have never once spoken to me about any experiences of harassment (though my wife assures me that female commuters in New York are no less susceptible to the "cop-a-feel-in-a-crowded-train" experience than their counterparts in Bombay.)
So you see, I really know next to nothing about this problem. All I can do is raise a clenched fist and feebly whisper some some toothless slogan. "Down with harassment". "We feel your pain".
But just when I think I have nothing personal to say, this one incident from several years ago comes to mind.
A little girl in our family - she was only 15 at the time - had acid splashed on her face by a stalker. The bastard - he was 18 - hid behind the bushes right outside the girl's house and waited till dusk before changing her entire life with one flick of his wrist.
They found out the boy's identity pretty quick. He had been stalking her for a while. I don't think there's an equivalent of the word "stalker" in an Indian language and the sickening euphemism that I heard in connection with this story back then was that "this boy had been in *love* with her". Naturally, the guy's "love" was unreciprocated and don't we all know there's no problem of the heart that cannot be solved with a can of fresh, bubbling concentrated sulfuric acid?
The poor girl survived, but suffered serious burn injuries on her face, her head, the hands and on the torso; her pretty smile wiped out by a red, puffy skin-graft - a silent, permanent testimony to harassment.
But that's not the only vulgar display of power in this painful episode.
An equally gross display came about when the girl's parents learned that the boy was "protected" by the higher-ups at some bullshit high-powered, semi-religious organization. The girl's parents couldn't even take the matter to court. They watched in miserable, tragic silence as the boy went from inside the lock-up to out on main street in 24 hours and their little girl went from Class Xth tuitions to the ICU.
Well, so much for silence then.
Over the last several months, I have read some sad, terrifying experiences. Now when I don't hear similar stories from the women that I meet everyday, I know a little better about interpreting that silence. What is not being said is very, very frightening.
So for goodness sake, turn it up to 11, Blank Noise.
Some link updates: Within/Without, as always, makes some excellent points.
Action Hero KM
http://pronounce.blogspot.com
dedicated to the blank noise (the more i roll that name around in my head the more i like it!).
the harassment of women is our sexist culture is an old problem thats sadly still in existence. in india, its all the more open and violent with so many of us packed tightly together. all of us women are given The Talk after the first time we are groped : "no, i know you didn't do anything, that's how some men are. forget it. and from now on, hug your file to your chest to shield it, and dont make eye contact with any man on the road".
i for one, hate being helpless, so im simply focussing on what we women can do for ourselves - basic self defence to use against harassment.
(NB: please understand that im not advocating general violence and a free-for-all. you will have to use your discretion and make situational judgements about what you're comfortable doing.)
* * *
29c was my daily bus ride in college days. its one of those ultra crowded routes (like 1) which really brings out the flavour of the term "over populated"! after getting pinched, squeezed, felt up, having my kurta ripped (that was a new one - didnt know theyd get that violent), i figured it was time to do some serious thinking.
id learnt martial arts in school for 8 years, and so i figured that i was pretty safe on the bus - that i could protect my person if needed. i got a rude shock when i realised that fighting in a bus was something i was totally unprepared for - for one thing, nice civilised tournament rules are crippling in street fighting, and for another (especially in buses), youre talking a serious lack of space. all those graceful sweeping chops and soaring kicks are out of the question when youre more or less on tiptoe because the place is so packed.
so my sister and i sat down and chatted one day about these bus encounters (ah. female bonding...!) and these are the things we thought of. im extremely pleased with this bunch of ideas because
a). it doesnt matter how strong your opponent is
b). it works in those cramped buses
c). you neednt be a weight lifter to pull this stuff ofF.
so here's presenting:
lessons learnt on 29c
1. if you dont like violence, swearing is good. the more fluent and artistic (/ anatomical) it is, the more attention it gets. yell. stop the bus. ask the conductor to make the guy get off the bus.
being made to get off a bus between two bus stops is bloody irritating, that too during the morning rush to work/college. so for sheer pestilence value if nothing else, i think this would dampen these guys interest in harassing women as a way to pass time.
also, even in an actual fight, if youre close to your opponent, coming right up to the face and screaming at the top of your lungs momentarily stuns and (understandably) unnerves the person. feel free to then kick opponent, one numbers, duly stunned.
2. use those heels. several of us kill ourselves tottering around in heels, lets give those wretched things at least a moments justification for existence. bend knee, lift foot and place very, very hard on his foot. the nice thing about this one is that you neednt even bother wriggling and turning around to face the slime. (if you like subtleties, dont let that smile of pleasure cross your face: be as wooden faced as these sods generally are.)
3. alright, so youre unfashionably sensible, or a 6 footer - no heels. use the elbow. clench your fist (i find it helps call up more power quickly) and drive your elbow backwards into the guys ribs, stomach, groin, throat, wherever. it will seldom hurt your elbow, and quite often will leave the other person winded and in some pain, though not serious. again, you dont need to be able to turn around for this one.
4. bite. i can understand this option being distasteful to many because come on, who wants to touch a guy like that, let alone put some of him in your mouth?! but if you can bring yourself to do it.... bite chunks out of offending hand.
5. do carry a safety pin - or better yet, that pronged thing that tailors use to remove stitches. its horrendously sharp. jab, puncture, poke. a pen, a sharp pencil and other simple objects can also be really handy.
we hear a lot of tripe about the weak soft female body and the Invulnerable Strong Male body: now the following ideas are more militant –
6. the adams apple is so beautifully framed in the throat. make use of it. punch, rather than jab. jabbing looks more classy, but is actually trickier business. when punching, if youre aiming for a more widespread impact, make contact with the flat, finger part of your fist. if its the more localised, more painful effect: use the knuckles. beware though, if you really ram the throat, you could get the wind pipe.
7. it doesnt matter what sort of a beefcake the guy is, the pinky is very easy to break. hes putting his hand well within your reach when hes feeling you up - take hand, keep bending the little finger back - it will snap. this is bloody painful and should quench his thirst for further encounters with women. it will also bruise the brutes ego : imagine having come off so badly in an encounter with a Mere Female. sheesh, the ignominy!
8. poke the eyes - easy to do and it hurts like hell.
9. if you have the space to move enough for a punch, punch the nose. it breaks quite easily, and even if youve not broken it, you can cause blinding pain without doing a serious injury. and you dont need phenomenal arm power to be able to do this.
10. this needs space, but it definitely features on my list: a solid sweeping kick between the legs. note: sweeping kick - dont bend your knee, cos if you do, you need to get much closer, plus it needs better aim - something that may be difficult given our potholes. depending on the power used, a kick like this could leave him doubled up clutching his crotch, unconscious, or sometimes - it does happen - dead from shock of acute pain. so you want to be really careful with the use of this one.
now. that sounds like a very happy list i know, but theres also more stuff to consider...
1. are you a person capable of violence? i wouldnt bank in blind faith on being able to kick, punch or fight dirty. the sad truth is that most of us women arent (we're too strongly conditioned to be "nice"). so if you just arbit assume you can do these things and then find at the critical moment that you cant, it will let you down big time. please consider very carefully how violent you are, how much you can bring yourself to do, if you can handle the consequences of violence.
2. please consider the unpleasant but very possible situation of there being a gang of men. you may be able to topple one guy. do you have the fighting skill to take on many? in such a scenario, many times if its not a really big issue, it may be better to stay non-physical but use the legal option, or verbal option, or vocal optional (ie, scream like hell)
3. i do not recommend weapons. anything that is capable of being used as a weapon (except your own body), can be grabbed from you and used against you. i know some people carry penknives and jazz, but i really dont think its a good idea at all. guys on the street are seldom armed, so why introduce a dangerous, potentially lethal element?
4. when you do these things, and especially act in control, the other men around who were simply shooting you knowing, lewd looks when they saw what was happening, will get hostile and try to intimidate you. they will start yelling and telling you how you had no right to do whatever it was that you did.
stay cool. most men find it extremely unnerving to be confronted with a woman who can keep her voice low and stare into their eyes returning look for look. this i will swear by. explain calmly that the moment they stood by watching what was happening to you without raising a finger to help, they lost the right to interfere. now they can just take a hike (and no, you neednt be that polite about it either! :D)
so there it is - self defence for the streets. i hope that helped :)
ps: thank you j. , for being an encouragingly bloodthirsty sounding board and reminding me of the stuff i had left out! :))
Action Hero M.
http://basicallyblah.blogspot.com
I have a 4 year old daughter. A sweetheart, growing up without inhibitions in the US of A. She likes to wear short skirts that billow out when she twirls like a ballerina. She likes to wear her swimsuit and cool off by running through sprinklers on our lawn. And then there's my 8 year old niece in B'lore, India. Growing up hearing her mother repeatedly tell her not to dance in their front yard (kid is an amazing dancer), not to look up at people while walking in the streets, always stay by an adult's side, on the side away from the road.... in short, teaching her all that she learnt as a kid. Everything she says brings back horrifying memories of the misery we endured growing up in B'lore. Don't you dare give me that 'You asked for it' shit. High school girls, in calf-length uniforms! Being groped at by passengers in the bus. That was when I learnt that men had an extremely sensitive area in their body, ideal for a quick punch or a knee! And boy! how I used that knowledge. I am sure there are several men out there who lost their 'family jewels' because of me!
And now, there's my sister. Meek little Manju, who has grown to be an amazing, confident, and brave woman, living in Mumbai. She works outside the house, and so has to travel by train and bus at all unearthly hours. One day, when she was returning home from work, a man groped her. For a moment, she was so shocked, that she stopped dead in her tracks. Then she turned around, ran behind that man (the platform wasn't very crowded, and so she was able to spot the 'Romeo') and when she reached him, she raised her hand, put all her anger and outrage behind the slap, and slapped him HARD! That took him totally by surprise, and he literally ran down the length of the platform, not daring to look over his shoulder even once.
Way to go, girl! I'm proud of you.
Action Hero Mangala
http://mysistermanju.blogspot.com
(Travelling tomorrow)
1993
"Lolita" and a snigger as the men nodded to each other.
Lolita. A little girl in a Weekender tee shirt with a sunflower emblazoned on it, her favourite. A little girl with big glasses hurrying to Math tuition.
It stung.
"Who is a Lolita," she asked at home later that evening.
"Lolita," they told her. "Sort of like a sex object."
--
1994
It was a black blur in the distance then it got louder as the bike came closer. She was humming on her way to Hindi tuition (yes, she had many tuitions, she needed them), swinging her books by her side.
He slowed down, swerved toward her and then hit out at her chest (she was fourteen).
It hurt. Her world blurred over with startled tears. From then she began defiantly carrying her books across her chest. Her walk became hurried and purposeful.
(Her red sleeveless top is part of the Blank Noise Discard Your Clothes Campaign.)
--
1999
Breach Candy.
Down the road from Hostel.
Rushing after buying Maggi, trying to make the curfew. Two policemen step in her way. One of them winks. A policeman. His face is etched in memory for years later.
--
2000
A crowded bus, we are trying to get off it at Churchgate. A man is pressing against us. We can feel something... strange, so hard that it hurts us.
It must be the force of the crowds, we think.
It must be the rush hour desperation of people to get off, we think.
It must be someone's umbrella handle...?
Bag contents?
Um, someone's clenched up fist....?
--
2001
People ask what's wrong with Chennai. My answer is one word: 5C
My bus every morning from Kotturpuram to Mount Road. A throbbing mass of people and you would be jostled, pinched, scraped, breathed upon. Once is tolerable, twice is bearable, third is manageable, but the entire 40 minute or so bus journey, first thing every morning is enough to wear you out.
--
2004
My car is navigating the line of traffic unwinding on Bangalore's Residency Road. A Maruti Van with two jeering men comes up by me, scrapes the side of my car, nudging me off my lane. A month ago two girls were killed in this same way... "eve teasing".
Rage. Belligerence. Screaming.
They laugh me off. Tell me my car is intact, before zooming off.
I head to the nearest police station. It's full of male cops.
"Sit down, Madam," they tell me, calmly. The SI is watching a rivetting soap indoors. He will not attend to me till it's done.
"Have some tea, Madam," they cajole. "No? That's how you keep your figure so thin, Madam".
--
2004
The compartment heaves deep, satisfied breaths of sleep in the heaviness of the early morning. I am wide awake. Something's up with the man next to me. Every unnatural touch I explain away, till finally he reaches out with what cannot possibly be explained away, a direct assault on my body, daringly from across the aisle in the darkness of the night.
"Don't ruin his life, Madam," the bystander pleads to me.
Such a young boy, about to set out on life, here to take the Railways Entrance exam. (And touch some breasts)
--
2006
How do you walk in a subway in the late evening? Have you watched yourself? Head bent, gait hurried, purposeful, scurrying... not too fast because people will reach out and touch you, not too slow because they will walk abreast, breathe into your ear... just the right speed, skipping almost: right-left, left-right, right-left... a self taught dance to avoid eyes, hands, fists, erect organs, deep breaths.
One day I would like to take in the store signs, pause for a long while on a pavement, walk slowly in a subway, perhaps humming a tune, ride hands by my side on a bus. Sleep on a train. Wear clothes that don't bring back stinging memories.
Action Hero Hemangini Gupta
http://hemanginigupta.blogspot.com
mother, daughter, sister, wife, mother...
she is the womb which brings forth life. she is the godess who is ready to give all for her kids.
she is the woman!
a caption for a beauty peagent? no...these are the thougts which come to my mind, when i think of a women...
the fair sex? an object of sex? and of harrasment? yes, that is what she has become. a commoditiy to be sold in the marriage market, and at the brothels...the effect of globalisation? i wonder!
but i do not want to divert from the cause... To recognize Women's Day, a blogathon is being organized for Tuesday, the 7th of March 2006. Blank Noise is asking other bloggers to post about their experiences of sexual harassment - as a victim, perpetrator or bystander - at work, at home or in the public sphere. i got it from Sapphire's blog...and here, i take it up...and pls do check Jitu's blog... and strangely, it happens...
lost innocence?
she was six. innocent and naughty. the occassion, her cousins wedding. crowded house. she was tired before her parents could come to the rooms, she sleeps with her friends, along comes that friends dad, touching her at the wrong places...she is scared.sleep forgotten she walks out, dazed, finds her father and cries to sleep...the day of the wedding the child runs a high temparature, and fusses by wanting to be with her dad...all day thru..
she is 12. a brat to the core, but loveable. mingles freely with boys and girls. a cousin shows more interest, she feels a bit cold when she talks to him, she is learing to ride a scootter, he touches her on the "wrong" places. she freezes momentarily... and ends by falling off the scootter...she is a child no more. she feels herself unworthy...moves into a shell, withdrawn...
at 14. she has her first crush. she doesnt know how to tell it... but when he says it she accepts it...the first kiss, leaves her cold.. dead of feelings...
at 16...she keeps a safety pin ready to poke the mysterious grooping hand...she still had it when she started travelling by the buses in dubai. (the busses in dubai are comparitively safe in dubai folks)
summin it up: would like to qoute a male friend. "u know wat baby? the problem is some women like the snaking hand...so the male mind is programmed to try it given a chance."
It is for a women to tell that mysterious hand that it is unwanted. and i have done it.
Am glad more people are speaking up..Spark, NG, Sur,Savy ...and many more am sure will come up with their experiances....and to all of u out there....
Thanks nsya, for sharing the thought!
i will be happy if at least one person, in some part of the world, decides to control his/her urges after reading these post...
Action Hero Maya
http://o3.indiatimes.com/cloud9/
My head hurts.
I've been reading the entries for the Blank Noise's blog-a-thon and I'm shaking. So many stories, so much anger, fear, rage. There's a chill up my spine and it's not due to the steady rain falling outside. I feel like screaming right now. So many stories...
My mum emails to comment on my post. She says it's a relief to be a woman in your fifties. You can walk more freely, she says wryly. I don't want to be fifty before I can walk without holding a bag in front of my chest protectively or ramming my elbow into someone who's intruded too far into my space. I don't want to spend a walk down the street dodging outstretched palms and twisting my torso to protect myself. I want to be able to climb into a bus or train and not feel violated. Someday?
Annie's post brought tears. I found myself nodding vigorously, agreeing with every word; every sentence rang true. Everybody has a story to tell and they are all different versions of the same tale. Most of my female co-bloggers have a post. Mumbaigirl, Shoefie, Mridu, Keya...
Will this ever end?
Action Hero Mumbaiwallah
http://mumbaiwallah.blogspot.com
This is a subject that fills me with rage. Not just mere anger, annoyance or irritation. R A G E. It's one of those things that makes me feel homicidal. And that's putting it mildly. To think that 100% of women in India also feel the same way infuriates me even more. This is a problem that is not going to go away. Not while most Indian men are still brought up with the idea that it is 'okay' to feel up every girl or woman that crosses their path.
The Blank Noise is fighting to make street harrasment (or eve teasing) unacceptable. That's the word that should define how we women react to being talked to, touched or looked at on the street - UNACCEPTABLE.
I grew up having a tough vision of myself as a woman. My gender, as a child, a teenager or in my 20s, was never a disadvantage. My mum taught us to be very, fiercely proud of ourselves. Sadly, the rest of the city did not have such wonderfully feminist mothers. Growing up one had to deal with all sorts of men- those that just 'thought' (and you could see it in their faces) or those that actually 'tried'.
Just thinking about all those incidents makes my blood boil. The innumerable times to and from school & college where the bus conductor brushed against women in the bus deliberately. I stopped taking the bus if I saw that conductor. (As a teenager, you just wanted to get to where you were going without any hassle - stamping on the conductors foot often did not help.)
Then there were the creeps at railway stations who would push against you and protest that it was an accident if you made a noise (or if they were slapped or hit with my trustworthy brolly, as I was wont to do).
Or those fellows in buses who took up more than their fair share of the seat, legs splayed wide. If a polite request to glue their knees together didn't work, I have been known to call the conductor and complain about the harrasment resulting in getting the creep thrown out of the bus.
Or what about those men who sit on the seat behind you in a BEST bus and then proceed to touch you from the gap between the seat and the bus wall. Some of them have since wished they were born without fingers, but the city (and country) is still teeming with them, with more coming out of the woodwork every minute.
I won't even bother to talk about those who expose themselves at bus stops or those that pinch you as you walk by in a crowd. There are just too many.
For all these and more, I have always responded. In retrospect, sometimes not very wisely. Retaliation, however, was an instinct. Keeping quiet or 'accepting' it was not part of the deal.
My penchant for anger at such incidents was so great that I know my mum often feared for my safety till I got back home. But there was no way I was letting anybody get away with this. No way. As far as I was concerned, nobody has a right to touch me without my permission. Nobody. If they did, it was asking for trouble.
Being in England has been so vastly liberating for me. I cannot even begin to express what a relief it is to be able to walk down a crowded road and have men maintain a safe distance from you. It's not about me being Indian or not attractive enough. As women of all ages, shapes,size or color will testify, none of those things matter. And your clothes certainly do not contribute to your harrasment. Being completely covered is not a pre-requisite to being safe.
Here, I not only walk without having to twist my body away each time I see a man bearing down upon me like a freight train, but gratefully, I can run. I can run on pavements and public streets and not be heckled. I can run or take a brisk walk and not be propositioned. I feel no fear when I run in the dark. You can be mugged of course, but that's a different kind of crime we are talking about.
Here, I can wear almost anything I want and feel comfortable enough to go out - knowing that I won't hear lewd comments or have a hand up my top. In the past year or so that I've been here, I have not had one experience that has made me feel uncomfortable about being a woman. Not one. And that's something to say for this country which has many negative points as far as accomodating people from other countries goes.
For that reason alone, I will be sorry to leave England.
The Blank Noise is hosting a Blog-a-thon on 7th March. If you want to participate, send them an email at blurtblanknoise@gmail.com
Shoefie sums it up eloquently saying, "Worse things have happened to others. But what binds us is our silence."
How true.
Join in the debate. The least we can do is make a noise.
Action Hero Mumbaiwallah
http://mumbaiwallah.blogspot.com
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