Mother IndiaA Story by MilaWritten by an Indian girl who is tired of looking at her country and seeing the horrible things that go on.Mother India
When I was growing up, my mother told me these things:
Don’t look at men in the eyes.
Don’t wear showy clothes.
If an older man is staring at you, ignore him.
Try and cover yourself up more.
Don’t draw attention to yourself.
Well, why did she tell me these things? She didn’t want me to get hurt? She thought men would harm me if I displayed my femininity?
Why did she tell me those things?
In India, I can’t wear shorts in over a hundred degree weather, simply because men will catcall me, touch me, harass me… try to rape me.
In India, I can’t go out after dark, simply because men will catcall me, touch me, harass me… try to rape me.
In India, victim blaming is more than a commonality, it’s expected.
Don’t go out late at night.
Don’t wear shorts in hot temperatures.
Don’t wear your hair down.
Don’t show too much skin.
If you leave a diamond in the street a thief will surely pick it up.
What do you do with a diamond? You secure and protect it. You shelter it and make sure it never sees the light of day save to display it for the enjoyment of others. They are objects of fascination, something everyone wants to touch.
Yes, you can say that women aren’t objects. Yet you can justify comparing women to diamonds.
I’ll sweat to keep myself from being assaulted by men who are sexually frustrated, and I will do it happily… because I don’t want my parents to think that they raised someone who likes to tempt men.
I’ll tie my hair up. Those long locks of dark hair that I thought would make me look classy and elegant are just another temptation factor for men.
I am not the owner of my body, fear is.
I fear the inferiors… and for what?
Do you even know who built India? Do you even stop to think about those things when you cat call, touch, harass or try to rape a girl that you don’t know? A girl whose life you’re making miserable because you are ‘just a guy and don’t know any better’?
Mothers built India.
In India’s history, we have Queens. Goddesses. Intellectuals. Mother’s of Kings, mothers of Prime Ministers, mothers of doctors, lawyers, businessmen… everything that has ever brought India to the face of the world has come forth from a mother. A woman.
Why do you think we call her Mother India?
You worship the Mother Goddess one night and rape a woman the other?
Do you think that you can catcall a girl on the street because you have some sort of power over her? Do you think that just because the authorities are on your side, you can get away with it?
We see you, you know. Mothers never forget. Your ancestors who fought, bleed, wept, sweat, and died to bring you the India you have now watch you and think… ‘This is what I sacrificed for?’
When you walk into your Mandir, you might as well keep your shoes on. Don’t wash your hands when you touch the idols. Don’t touch the feet of your elders. Don’t get on your knees and bow your head down in front of God.
What good will any of that do you? They saw you when you thought you were untouchable. When you were catcalling, touching, harassing or raping that girl, they saw you.
Every time you destroy a girl, you destroy a Mother India.
Every time you destroy a man, you destroy a son of Mother India.
Every time you destroy anyone, you destroy a child of Mother India.
So tell me, now that you’ve been so humbled… why do you think my mother told me those things? © 2015 MilaAuthor's Note
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