First off, I want to group hug everyone at Chennai Hollaback! I just do. I don’t know how they got a hold of my previous post on this subject, but they did and they’ve passed the word around on Twitter and I’ve been getting a lot of positive shoutouts. My sincere gratitude. This blog’s sole intent is entirely and completely selfish. If it finds a resonance with people, then I’m all the happier to share my stories with the world.
Let’s get to part 2 of this dialogue shall we?
The main reason for this faceless violation of my body was because some random man thought I had either “asked for it” by the way I dressed or by the fact that I had big boobs and a round ass. I honestly cannot attribute any other reason to this form of sexual violence except one’s physical appearance. There’s no other logical reasoning for something this pathetic. What else do you think could be their motivation? Sex-depravation? Uncontrollable impulse just like that suspicious twitch in the left eye some people have? A woman’s body is the only reason.
As a teenager, my breasts were the bane of my existence. They still are, but I like them better now and do a lot less to wish they’d disappear forever and leave me gloriously flat-chested…
[If some shit-resembling man mentally thinks that women are never happy with what they have, I will find him and burn him alive in Anna Square bus stop.]
…The fact that my 14-year-old body ached from the weight of my breasts didn’t help my daily travels to school. I was in a pinafore, awkward as hell, and carried a school bag that was doing everything in its power to snap my neck. On that 17D to school, there was barely any room to stand, and yet, there were men who had the wherewithal to snake their arms around the throng and grab a boob, because, you know, boobs are the equivalent of a bus ticket and they need boobs like they need bus tickets.
I mean, the fact that I was wearing a school uniform had no bearing on the hand-snaking. Absolutely no bearing. It’s pathetic.
I’m not sure if this contributed in any way to my issues with my appearance or in my opinion of men. I have a feeling it has. I don’t see one single word in this blog post or the previous that in any way redeems men. And I will not take away this umbrella hatred because the How to Judge a Person handbook excludes the “nice, non-harassing guys”; you might not grab my boob, but you sure as hell have spent time wondering what they look/feel like and that puts you in the category too my nice, non-harassing friend.
Ever since I started working, I stopped taking the bus to where I had to go. This auto-taking has left me with zero savings, but having zero savings has never felt this liberating!