Like the fate of every legitimate issue that a woman faces, online violence too was normalised; ignoring it was what was expected out of me.
If the word Purdah evokes in your minds, an image of fully clad women chained in the four walls under the Taliban regime, Iran or Saudi Arabia, then you are gravely wrong.
Incidents of public masturbation have been rising fairly consistently in India. Men masturbate in parks in broad daylight, or on public transportation, and even outside girls’ colleges, traumatizing women everyday and making the public place even more unsafe for them.
Moving to a new city was possible due to community support I received—for which I call them my alternate family.
When people whose very duty is to protect the citizens, fail to do the basic minimum, who do I turn to? What happens to women complainants in our society?
It had never occurred to me that what I experienced, growing up, was worth counting as trauma. It hadn’t occurred to me when grown men salivated over my twelve-year old, overgrown, ripe body, and made no pains to conceal it.
When I found out that I was not the only victim of intimate partner violence, I realised that my silence was enabling his violence. I decided to start speaking out about it, and I want to share some common responses to highlight why speaking out can be re-traumatising and difficult to a survivor.
After being body-shamed to such an extent I grew so dejected and downcast, that I avoided interactions with my classmates, opting to spend my recess in the library after grabbing a quick bite. However, little did I imagine that body-shaming would continue to dog me even in adult life.
I earned my PhD in fame, founded the CMCS and now take pride in helping other women find a voice in the post-Weinstein era and leave behind their trauma.
It is imperative that the state’s ID processes take into account our complex lived realities, and try to make things simpler for us, but the new Transgender Rights Bill only makes it further difficult.