For a long time I have kept my rage in check in return for peace. This was a mistake, as I now realise – I’m speaking up now.
Here is a checklist of my crimes: too argumentative. doesn’t adjust throws tantrums locks herself behind doors, disrespectful. doesn’t accept apologies. doesn’t forgive.
they shine on my skin like badges each a strike through my ‘good name.’ each a reminder, to me of something won, rather than something lost.
I made a mistake once — I traded my rage for ‘peace’ but all I got were scars that ran so deep, they stole from me who I was. I am something new now. I am fury.
I scream. Politeness and silence will get me nowhere. Have got me nowhere. And so, I draw the boundaries with my voice. Thick, red, bleeding lines that throb with pain, and truth.
I accept the slurs shrew, characterless drama queen, attention seeker. It is better than being nothing. I do not delude myself anymore.
I am not the good Indian woman. I refuse to be.
Image source: a still from the film Naam Shabana
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