Last evening walking back
from office a man passed a comment on my body. His exact words were “Kya mast
balls hai”. Since I don’t have testicles, I am pretty sure he was referring to
my breasts. He was on a bike, I was on the road. He said, I heard, he went
away. No, I didn’t say anything. Not because I didn’t want to, because I
couldn’t. In that moment I was so zapped, so stunned, my mind simply stopped
working. I didn’t even dare to look at him or acknowledge him in anyway. I
simply stared ahead and started walking. I remember my first thought was Oh
shit! My t-shirt is too tight. I started mentally and physically shrinking my
breasts inside my body hoping they would disappear. Maybe my nipples are
showing. I should put the bag in front of my body to cover them up.
Trust me when I say, it
took mammoth will and determination on my part to not do that. I was also
consciously puffing my chest out, not ready to leave the battle just yet. It
was amazing for me to realize that an independent, working and a rather strong
woman like me was thinking these thoughts. That my first instinct was to blame
my clothing. As expressive as I am, my training of ‘being a woman’ stopped me
from retaliating to this man. I remember at various points in life being told
that it’s best not to react to such comments. As a kid it was because I was so
young anyone could pick me and do anything. As a teenager it was because I was
a girl and by that virtue a weaker sex. As a woman it was a simple suggestion
for better survival. Not all suggestions came from my parents. Friends,
colleagues, boyfriends and male bosses also suggested the same.
Maybe they are right.
Maybe my reacting would not have made any difference to that man. But if I
would have voiced my anger at that point I know I would have realized my anger
and frustration rather than keeping it inside me. My confidence would not have
taken a hit and I would not feel like a helpless non-entity. At that point my
survival depended not in keeping quiet but in shouting out? Why? Because had I
said anything I would not feel like I could be violated at any moment. I would
knew that no random person could just drive in my life and reduce me to
“balls”. I would not blame myself for having “balls”. But most of all I would
not feel vulnerable every time I walk down a road, wearing clothes that I feel
comfortable in. I would feel the freedom to walk my walk and talk my talk and
not feel sorry or scared for doing either.
