relationships are activism too

My body is a temple, visited by self-entitled men. Count with me, my pilgrims:

One, Auto Anna from kindergarten who made me sit on his quicksand lap every ride to school & back.

Two, Arabic teacher who reeked of after-tea burps and rich attar of the gulf. With one hand on my leg and the other on the holy Quran.

Three, fancy salon Barber who washed my hair and felt my sprouted teen breasts until it formed stubborn hate for being born a female.

Four, a Lover who went too far, enough to leave me ice cold and in the South pole.

Five, Bangalore Bike Boys who slam on buttocks with trophy grabbing force that shudders in the palms of men.

And still counting. For the men to pierce barb wires forcing territory marking, and crushing me armless, faceless and voiceless.

My body is a temple. Of self-entitled men.

“I think this is the problem with allyship today. The need to label oneself an ally merely to rid themselves of their complicity to the oppressive system they belong to. Being an ally cannot be a thing we scream from roof-tops, it is an everyday humble duty one takes on. Being accountable is very important, holding space for those who are suffering, their rage, their pain and grief is what we mean when we say “listen”. We don’t mean attending our lectures to get educated, we mean that our grief and pain being centered is intrinsically tied to the liberation of the ruling caste, so listen. Practice empathy by showing up with time, energy and wealth. I don’t say “money” for a reason. Nuance comes from practicing active listening and learning in silence, without screaming on roof-tops about one’s allyship.”