Sweet child of mine

Every time i read about a rape, i feel these raging emotions that i cannot contain. They spill over and garnish me with pain, anger, disgust, helplessness, anxiety and fear.

http://www.bloomberg.com/news/2013-12-12/preschool-rape-case-belies-justice-for-india-women-born-to-lose.html

That is what i read today.

They say your skin makes me want to do bad things to you, so you better cover up.
They say your independent attitude makes me want to show you how powerless you truly are, so you better stay at home.
They say your laughter tells me you want me as much as i want you, so you better stay quiet.
They say your closeness to men tells me you're a slut, so you better watch who you talk to.
They say your drinking alcohol tells me you want me to rip your clothes off you, so you better drink tea.

And now you say you raped a 3 year old girl because the demon possessed you?

How am i to protect my child from you then? Should i have her walk around with a Bible and a cross around her neck chanting hail Mary's? Or should i call on an exorcist to castrate the demon out of you?

Dream on

I sit here trying to think what it was like 10 years ago.

I was 23, single (supposedly) and just out of college. I had to convince my dad i'd have a better chance at finding a job in Bangalore. So there i was, sharing a 10x10 room with my sister in a hostel full of young, lovely, lively girls who were full of dreams and reminded me of butterflies. They smelt sweet, looked sweet and talked sweet. Most of them were studying and some looking for jobs or working already. They always seemed ready to spread their wings and fly away.

How i would love to talk to them now. To see if they've found their freedom. To see if it is all they ever dreamt of. Do they still look as lovely? Or have their eyes lost the hope there once was? Do they still laugh out loud? Or do they need a glass of wine or two? Where did they fly off to? Do they still have their wings? Can they still fly?

I know what i dreamt of. I dreamt of scoring an entry to a medical college so my dad would finally stop being so miserable. I couldn't and he's still miserable.
I dreamt of working for big companies so my dad would stop being so miserable. I did and he's still miserable.
I dreamt of marrying my first boyfriend and living on a beach house with a cat and a dog and white picket fences. Boyfriend cheated. I cheated (if exchanging dirty messages is considered cheating). We both were miserable and so was my dad.

Education. Check. Job. Check. Man/Men. Check.

I suppose that's where it all ended for me. I don't know where to fly to next. This can't be it. There has to be more. I wan't more check boxes to check. I know you're thinking marriage and babies. And that certainly would make my dad less miserable. But, surely there are more check boxes for a single woman?

I need an adventure. I want a dream. I need a dream. It's getting dangerously boring.

Don't bother!

To all my male colleagues, peers, bosses and friends out there. If you have a girl child or are planning to have one, don't bother sending her to school. If you are, don't bother expecting her to get good grades. If she is, don't bother sending her to a college. If she is, don't bother expecting her to find a job. If she has, don't bother expecting her to be good at it. If she is, don't bother expecting her to keep it. Because in all likelihood, in the end it wouldn't matter that she stayed up till 4 in the morning to finish her term papers or that she got through college with a distinction or that she went through numerous rounds of interviews to land a job or that she worked continuously for ninety days at a stretch for a demanding client. In the end, she will have to spend every single day of her life proving to her male counterparts that she's just as worthy as them, forget better.

Yes, where's the fun in life if there were no challenges? It's the challenge of proving someone wrong that excites and titillates you in the beginning. Throw a brick at me and watch me smash it to a million pieces. Step on my foot and watch me strip you naked. Burn me down and watch me rise like a Phoenix. Its what drives you for a while. And then you run out of fuel. That little stretch till the next gas station is what makes you wonder if its all worth it. Before it makes you, it breaks you. And by the time you're done putting back all the pieces together, you have to ask yourself if you've lost a part of you in the process. If you're whole again. I'm afraid i haven't found the answer to that. When someone recently asked me to use adjectives to describe myself, i was speechless. Not because i couldn't think of any but i didn't want them to know the ones that were forming in my head. Or maybe I have found the answer.

When you're ten and the last one to be picked for a dance recital every single year, you realize that you're not meant to win beauty contests and should spend more time in the library. By the time you're eighteen, you thank you're lucky stars you weren't born beautiful because all the time spent in the library meant you now have a talent that you've earned and could be proud of. By the time you're in your mid twenties, your pride in your accomplishments makes the world look at you differently. You're now deemed attractive and you've finally arrived. By the time you're in you're thirties, you're fighting to prove that you didn't have it easy because you're attractive.

When your father tells you every year that your life will be much easier if you were married, you scoff at him and tell him that he's disillusioned because  you're self sufficient and happy being single. Over the years, having lived and worked with men, you realize he was only giving you an honest like-it-or-not advice because he cannot change the world for you. He cannot justify or reason how someone's marital status or their appearance guarantees respect, but he hopes that having a ring on your finger will make people look at you differently. As endearing as it is, your father's hopelessness is now your burden to bear as well.

So, don't build up their hopes by encouraging them to top their classes. Don't share dreams of turning them into doctors, scientists, artists or researchers. Don't waste your funds on sending them to college. Because most of them will never make it to that next gas station. Most of them will look in that rear view mirror and see a person that they don't recognize anymore. Most of them will be brainwashed into believing that they're weaker because they lack a Y, not stronger because they have an extra X. So, why bother? Don't! Don't bother.