Yes, That Was The Beginning Of A Slapgate Scandal

I am unsure if I can call it a social issue though, in my defense, it pertains to issues that concern me socially!

It was a regular day in my town, which by the way thrives on parties. The high of a day isn’t in how happy you have been or what you achieved at work but the shallow – “You didn’t get an invite?”

It never mattered to me for very early in life I learned the art of distinguishing real from fake. I could attribute it to my ever-consistently loyal gut or maybe it was an inherent part of my nature to just be able to look beyond the masquerade!

I too, went along with the flow in my early thirties, almost as though deliberately choosing to look for the real in the fake. And I was unpleasantly surprised! I don’t call myself a feminist but I have an absolute zero threshold for slut shaming women. Sadly it often comes from other women, close relatives, or friends- and such is my story.

When someone with power asserts themselves on you for vile purposes, there is not much you can do but hold your ground. Publicly, a lot was said, privately even more so. For a moment, not to sound melodramatic but I almost felt the pain Sita must have felt at being questioned about her character in the full public glare! But I chose to stay silent. When friends turned foe and conveniently believed falsified stories and rumours, I tried to make a joke out of it to keep my sanity. But deep inside me, another wave of black silence descended.

It was a regular socialite party with an eclectic mix of generations. I saw her walk in and get intoxicated, which was a usual affair. The town was drunk… but of course, no one dared question her as she belonged to aristocracy! And who was I but a simple married woman? The fact that we had been friends, great friends at that was a fact long camouflaged with deceit, insecurity, and of course jealousy. Why to this date I am ignorant of!

What stirred the pot was when she slapped me, owing to her twisted cacophony of lustful thoughts and that was when the SlapGate scandal began. Yes, I was slut shamed in public! I was told things that I could never in my wildest dreams imagine from anyone, let alone a woman I once considered a friend. I was humiliated and abused for something that was solely her warped mind.

But, it was done.

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I did hit back, for self-defense is a vital lesson we are taught. I did talk to my friends hoping they would have it in them to stand for the right instead of the wrong. But, it was a small town and people thrived on parties… Standing with me meant isolation from the glamour and, of course, I had to be guilty for no one dared take a stand against her. She was too evil a human, too powerfully conniving a mind to displease.

So, I stood alone.

The parties continue, the fakeness remains believable. It hurts deep inside me when I teach my daughters never to shed tears for someone who wrongs them, but contradictorily, weep every night at my helplessness.

Crying doesn’t make me a weak woman, it simply makes me human. Or is this a story I tell myself to wake up each morning?

(Abuse against women – emotional or physical cannot be pushed under the rug anymore. I’m finally ready to share my story if you have it in you to listen)

Image Source: wdstock from Getty Images Signature via Canva Pro 

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