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A mother writes a letter to her son, on what it feels to be sexually abused, and how to be a man, who knows how to love and respect women.
#ShareYourStory is an initiative by Breakthrough to bring the conversation around sexual harassment into families; to get women talking about the harassment they have experienced with their family members, especially sons (or other boys and young men.)
Dear Son,
I was 5 years old when I was sexually abused for the first time. Oddly, I remember every detail of that afternoon. The room, the bed, the light blue walls and the ancient, long-nosed fan, the dull squeaks of which have kept playing in my head over and over again for so many afternoons after that. Three faces stare at me as I lie on the bed, skirt up, panties down and my heart beating like a drum. I do not cry. I do not resist. I am afraid to move, afraid to speak, afraid to close my eyes. And I watch those faces. The faces that are not strangers. The faces I know so well, faces that visit my family every weekend, play with me, and bring me chocolates. And they are the people who you have met, spoken to, and shook hands with.
Fast forward to age 12. Cycling back home used to be the most dreadful part of my school days. Everyday I would see a man waiting in the corner of a lonesome street. As soon as he saw me, he would unzip himself and expose his private part. With an ugly grin on his face he would stare at me waiting to catch my reaction. I wanted to scream. I wanted to slap him. But all I could do was work my legs harder on the pedals.
Like million of other girls going to college, I have been touched and groped inside buses. I have been told to wear decent clothes so that I don’t invite ‘trouble’. I have been told to stay back home after dark. I have been told how much to speak, how much to want, how much to dream. I have been told over and over again that I not a boy. I have been told to compromise. Yet, like every other girl I constantly dream. Of love, of friends, of dancing, of short skirts, of being unafraid.
I always wanted a daughter. So that I could give her everything that I, as a girl, had to sacrifice. But when I had you, I knew it was for a reason. So that through you I could give all those women out there an opportunity to reconsider their opinion about a man. That he is not an enemy. That he is a trustworthy friend, a companion, and a protector. That he knows how to love. That he respects her for who she is. Won’t you help me and all the other women out there dream again?
Cover image via Shutterstock
Sowmya Vidyadhar is a freelance copyeditor and works for International magazines and publishing companies, editing fiction and non-fiction. Basically a poet, her style of poetry writing is more often confessional. Her works of poetry read more...
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UP Boards Topper Prachi Nigam was trolled on social media for her facial hair; our obsession with appearance is harsh on young minds.
Prachi Nigam’s photo has been doing the rounds on social media for the right reasons. Well, scratch that- I wish the above statement were true. This 15-year-old girl should ideally be revelling in her spectacular achievement of scoring a whopping 98.05% and topping her tenth-grade boards. But oddly enough, along with her marks, it’s something else that garners more attention – her facial hair.
While the trolls are driving themselves giddy by mocking this girl who hasn’t even completed her school yet, the ones who are taking her side are going one step ahead – they are sharing her photoshopped pictures, sans the facial hair, looking nothing less than a celebrity with captions saying – “Prachi Nigam, ten years later”.
Doctors have already diagnosed her with PCOD in their comments, based on photographic evidence. While we have names for people shamed for their weight – body shaming, for their skin colour- racism, for their age- age shaming, for being a female- sexism, this category of shaming where one faces criticism for their appearance has no name. With that, it also has zero shame attached to it.
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