Is It Me Or Them?

Detector Warning: I don’t indeed flash back when it happened for the first time. But it did. I was sexually wearied, further than formerly, in my nonage. By a neighbour, a staff, a motorist and two education preceptors. They felt me, squeezed my guts and exclaimed over me. These recollections have darkened my nonage and unlike numerous others, I don’t want to return to my nonage days. I still feel shamefaced for not doing justice to my youngish tone. Not because I didn’t raise my voice but because my voice was nipped in the cub.

When I was wearied, I was overwhelmed not just by the nausea but also the fear about how will my parents reply if they get to know about it. My mockers made me internalise that if I tell my parents anything, they will get angry and push me out of the house. I grew up allowing that the importunity was some fault of mine and not the perpetrator. I was noway educated about good or bad touch. I noway knew that someone touching my guts or vagina was wrong. But because my mockers made it a silent affair, I realized there was commodity wrong with it. What farther banged my guilt was my mama ’s response when I told her what happened to me. Yes, I eventually mustered some courage and told her about one of the incidents. But I was shocked by what she said. She told that men are like this. That I should ignore and acclimate.

It was as if the seed of adaptability growing inside me was wrenched down and killed. My parents, just like my mockers, criticized me for the importunity that happened to me. Both asked me to suture my lips and acclimate. Can you imagine how painful it's to see that both your parents and mockers partake the same mindsets? Can you sound my wounded heart and sense of tone when my parents, the only defenders, were on the side of the mockers? The silence and guilt that they assessed on me came the immoralities that hang me indeed moment.

As I grew up and entered an education, I began to make sense of everything that had happened to me. I understood that I was sexually wearied. It wasn't just a small case of wrong like snatching the toy from a child’s hand. But a grave crime that should have been called out and penalised. I realised that my parents were wrong in trying to ask me to ignore and acclimate. I understood that for them the family character was more important than their own son’s safety. I understood that they assumed that sexual importunity is a part of every woman’s life and she should learn to acclimate rather than speak up.

Moment I just want to ask these questions to my parents that why didn’t you support me when I demanded you the most? Why did you discipline my nonage to bear with similar dark days? Why couldn’t you make my nonage a better experience? If I hadn't entered education about feminism, would I ever realise the wrong that has happened to me? In a shot to make ladki as ghar ki izzat, how did you forget that her izzat lies in tone- respect and safety? Dear parents, it pains like breaking bones to tell you that my PTSD is a result of your ignorance towards me.

And dear heckler, just because I sat near to you, laughed with you and let you pull my cheeks, how could you assume these as a licence to kill me? How could you destroy the nonage of a girl who was just beginning to see the world from her own eyes?

There are still numerous questions that I want to raise. But I suppose for me it's too late. Yet I want that through my experience numerous girls around learn that they're noway responsible for their own assault. I want other parents to understand that sexual importunity is a crime and they should cover their daughters from it but not by boxing them but by making them independent.