Keen to learn more about inclusive workplaces? Want to be inclusive of the LGBTQ+ community? Download our special report with Randstad India on making Inclusion without Exception happen
Why do so many men believe that a No is a Yes? We need to start with teaching boys that a No means No.
No, I tell my sonny boy, don’t do that, as he badgers the car, and looks up and smiles and oh what a cherubic smile and I take him in my arms for a tight squeeze as he continues to badger it some more.
No I tell my betu, come down, as he monkeys up the window bars and tugs at the curtains and I tell him to be careful as he might hurt himself; the curtain rings come apart as he pulls at it too hard, the second time in fifteen days, and I tell him betu stop, but he continues to climb, my monkey baby, my own Spiderman, what a storehouse of energy.
No, I tell my champ, you shouldn’t, as he rides through the flower bed and I point out the sign close by that says it is not allowed; he continues to ride on, he probably doesn’t hear me in the din and exhilaration, but just look at the way he negotiates that hedge, my awesome little boy, what remarkable balance.
No, I tell my Shona-mona, give it back to her, as he snatches a friend’s soft toy and continues to fiddle with it and sticks his tongue out and cracks up as he twists its arms while the friend protests. Some crazy playtime imagination he has, my baby, just look at him and his peals of delight.
No, I tell my darling, it’s not your turn yet, as he pushes the younger boy off the swing and places himself there; there he goes higher and higher. Someday, he will reach for the stars, he will, my darling.
No, I tell my invincible one, you’re too young for that, as he tells the driver to move his butt aside and to let him roll the car out of the gate today; he starts the ignition and he’s moving the car, OMG, my son is actually driving, I can’t believe it! and I rush in to post the click on Facebook; there cannot be a prouder mom of a ten year old in the world.
No, I tell my birthday-lion, there are others before you, as he bypasses the queue for the roller coaster ride and he shouts back a he-can’t-wait-that-long and pushes on and I can’t help admiring his unfazed confidence.
No, I tell my raja beta, don’t fret and try this once, as he refuses to sit for lunch because there’s no chicken and I tell him I wasn’t feeling too well so couldn’t, and he picks up some Coke and Lays instead and I feel bad for having disappointed my poor baby who’s had such a tiring day at school, so I drag myself out and get some chicken ready for him. Anything to see that smile back on his face.
No, I tell my techie-star, don’t always lock up your room, as he slides behind the door and bangs it shut and I know he must be about to start playing his favourite game again and I feel it’s okay to let him be after having dragged him along, much against his wishes, to visit his ailing granny.
No, I urge my Albert Pinto, don’t react like that, as he argues with the ticketing staff at the multiplex over a preferred seat; that man doesn’t even try to give him what he wants, and so you-meet-me-outside-I-will-show-you gives it back to that asshole, my boy. What raging hormones, I see; he knows to give a good fight for whatever he wants.
No, I want to tell my apple-pie, take deep breaths, as I see him getting impatient and loud and angry at little little things but he’s a big boy now, almost a man – how handsome he looks, girls at school must be dying to get his attention – but he no longer listens to me.
No, wait, I cry out at my hotheaded superman, where are you going, and run behind him as he storms out of his room and the house yelling that-fucking-bitch, taking the car keys along. I don’t know what has happened; he looked fine when he returned from college this afternoon. I hope he is okay…will everything be okay…
Frightening, and familiar. Is it?
We’ve raised generations of boys and men showing them a No means a Yes.
About time we began with a full stop.
No. That means just that.
Richa Jha is a picture book enthusiast at Snuggle with Picture Books and an occasional writer at Richajha.com
Pic credit: Nisha (Used under a Creative Commons license)
Guest Bloggers are those who want to share their ideas/experiences, but do not have a profile here. Write to us at [email protected] if you have a special situation (for e.g. want read more...
Women's Web is an open platform that publishes a diversity of views, indivisual posts do not necessarily represent the platofrom's views and opinions at all times.
Stay updated with our Weekly Newsletter or Daily Summary - or both!
Why do parents avoid explaining the physical part of relationships to their children? The mindset is-'they will learn on their own like I learnt.'
Marriage. A word with conflicting sentiments. Love, exhilaration, fear, and adjustments were all deep sentiments that tingled in the pit of my stomach from time to time. However, I believe that the final decision must be taken solely by the two persons after the completion of courtship period (or whatever you call it).
My cousin got married in this lockdown. She was not very excited about the shrinking guest list. Though she was ecstatic she had me. More than the sisterhood bonding, we apportion a cognation of mentor-student. Moreover, I feel so protective towards her as she is introvert, shy, and timid. All I endeavoured and wanted her was her voice and a stand for herself.
It was her mehndi the day I reached. She rushed to hug me with those moist eyes. Fighting back my tears and holding her in my arms, my mind toggled between past and present. “I am so happy you made it di,” she said. It was the moment of mixed feelings, a reminder of the time when I was naïve to the change marriage brought into my life. I inhaled my lungs full of air in disbelief that the baby girl is getting married in two days. She blushed as others giggled and teased her asking her about the guy.
From the time one dancer went public about Pt Birju Maharaj through a series of stories on Instagram, the classic cycle of victim blaming started asserting itself- deny, disbelieve, discredit, disgrace.
Trigger warning: This has sexual abuse, victim blaming, and gaslighting, and may be triggering to survivors.
In light of the recent allegations of sexual misconduct by the legendary kathak maestro Pt. Birju Maharaj, a number of people are asking “why now?” Why is the person choosing to make the allegations public after his death when he is no longer around to defend himself? What is to be gained by sullying his reputation when he is no longer in the world? If these allegations were true, why didn’t we hear of it before?
How is raising compassionate boys possible if we refuse to extend compassion to boys, if we don't allow them to cry?
“I am calling from your son’s school. I just wanted to inform you that your son fell down in the school. His tooth is jutting out and he has injured his lower lip. We have given him some ice and sugar,” said the teacher on the phone a couple of days ago.
“Is he alright now? Has he stopped crying? Do you want me to come right away?”
“He is fine now. Take your time,” said the teacher at the other end.
And then, all of a sudden, he gets up to leave, and that is when I realize that maybe that was the only conversation I would have of this sort.
I am a prostitute.
Exhausted, I lie on the bed, sore at all the places he touched me. Age has begun to take a toll on my body. I stare at the fat wad of notes he flung at me before he walked out of the door. These notes are all that my body is made up of. My body, my soul and my life have become a slave to them. A slave who is the master of her own freedom, but still chooses to live in the shackles of a world where she is copulated with and made an object… They a face that is not meant to be remembered and a name that is not meant to be spoken.