Rape is “Forcing Me to Set a Boundary”

Rape is violation of my bodily boundary which patriarchy forces me to set. Rape is forcing me to set a “boundary”. I cordon myself off. I hide myself in loose ill fitting outfit to fit in this society, never rise my eyes at those who look at me without a blink, unclothing me layer by layer till I am all naked and trying a failed attempt to cover myself with my own bare skin. They list out so many reasons to rape me that I sometimes think myself justifiably “rapable”. I am violated when I want to claim my own space, when I want to break free of barriers, when I want to live a norms-free life or rather want to live a life and I am raped even in retaliation for perceived fault of my family or village or caste or religion or race! They need not claim victory by winning a war, but just rape me and declare themselves triumphant! After all I am “izzat”of my family!

I am ageless. They rape me even if I am 2 years old; they do so even if I am their grandmother’s age. Perhaps they rape me because now those toddlers don’t smile back at them out of fear and grandmothers do not tell stories now a day!

By the way, I am also gender-less! Recall incidents of assaults on young male children by their own close relatives. (Recently, a well known politician created sensation when he narrated harrowed childhood experience of his own abuse in a crowded bus)

They say it’s me who invite rape and it’s me who enjoys and it’s me who cries foul to get compensation!

It is not always so perhaps. It is me who was depicted in bare breasts and derrière all over Ajanta and Elora .It was me who used to have five husbands. It was me only who went to fight with my husband in the battlefield and made him win and no one found it “unwomanly”. No one used to call me names if I got innocent feeling for someone while married to someone else. I used to dance with him and he never took advantage of me. I was fond of his craft, enamoured more with his magic of flute than him. I was after him and he was after perhaps larger scheme of things:

“હું તો કાગળિયાં લખી લખી થાકી, કાનુડા તારા મનમાં નથી” (I kept sending missives to you, Krishna, u don’t have any feelings for me.)

Don’t know what happened and things turned upside down. Now, they proudly pronounce themselves “rapist”:

“Mai balatkari hu” (I am rapist) (courtesy our own Honey Singhji, God bless him)

Though I am still there who shouts from billboards in skimpy clothes and shaped raised eyebrows to buy you “Panforce” and you do buy it I believe. But then I am called “Bazaaru” (one who sells oneself in market) not for no reason. Should I take offence when everything else is being sold in market- even happiness wrapped in white cover of Eye-phone and relationship on Chhaadi.com! If they sell themselves, it’s called their net worth and brand value!

I don’t know what will deter them not to rape. Possibly a story from their grandmothers while they go to bed or a Madalsa like mother who brought her children up in such a manner that they went to forest as an ascetic after getting off from their crib! Or a word of caution from their fathers that even in their family I reside as their mothers and sisters and daughters. Or perhaps let me take hammer-chisel  in my own hand (menandi or without mehandi) and hollow out this hierarchy, patriarchy and all things gendered!