An open letter to a rapist

This letter is not just for rapists, but for every eve-teaser, every sexual assaulter, every abuser, and every roadside romeo that exist.

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Dear loser,

Let me start with how fortunate you are to be in the lime-light these days. Your outstanding performance is in black and white all over. You must be feeling so proud.

Everyday you leave your house with your impotent little friend inside your pants, assuming that the world revolves around you both, thinking that every woman in the world is born to satisfy your lust, that your obnoxious little pleasure of ten seconds must be met at any cost.

Well, congratulations. You've been quite successful. Thanks to your comrades who are in your support indirectly. Your victims, alcohol, drugs, chow-mein, a woman's attire etc are being blamed for the golden deeds that you do. So, hurray!!! There are people making your job easier. 

While you console your manhood by doing brutal crime like rape, we talk about how you don't have any balls. You are no more entitled to be called a man, once you cross this limit. You doubt your manliness so much that you now hunt in groups to reassure your potency. Your actions have led to people telling us how to sit, walk, talk, act, dress, behave or breathe. No one is telling you how to keep it in your pants. So let me take the torch, tell you what's needed and shine some light on the other side of this hideous crime. In fact, let me tell you some bare facts you failed to learn in the fog of your ignorance.

      

We women are born just like you, delivered from our mothers, but in the process of our bodies getting developed we start getting fragile and vulnerable. The outer layer of our body becomes our shield and an unfamiliar and unwelcome touch always shudders us. Though you consider our bodies to be a rag or a trash bag, there is no place in our body that doesn't hurt, if pressed with force. 

The part where you mercilessly shove rods and what not, is called a Vagina. Yes, the very main reason of your existence. It is one of the most sensitive parts of our body. So sensitive that it is painful to even pass our fluids every month. Sometimes when you prey on young girls or kids, that little part is covered with a thin membrane which is called a hymen. Even when it's tore apart with utmost care, it causes the deadliest pain. But in your lust, you don't realize how agonizing the pain can be when something is forced inside. It crushes us. Even the loudest scream wouldn't justify the misery. 

How can you not see it? 

Every women have the same body part, however no girl except for your victims can imagine the anguish you cause to them. That little place we were talking about, is OURS. It doesn't matter if we are a doctor, an engineer, a patient, a student, a journalist, a kid, a wife or a prostitute, no one, but WE have the sole right on it and it is OUR decision whether to share it with anyone or not. No indirect sign or body language or our appearance, except for a "yes" signifies that we are inviting you. Not that you need any signal. You are a breed lower than the bulls.

That was physical pain. Let's talk about the emotional and mental trauma you cause. Our Indian society was and is a male dominant society. A small decision like talking to a guy in public, holding someone's hand, being in a relationship, or marrying someone outside the demanded society create havoc for us. We are talked about, called names. Now imagine living in such society when not only our body, but our identity is stripped naked. After your cruel actions, everyone is talking about where you touched us, where you nabbed us, where you scratched us, where you bit us, where you hit us, where you fucked us and it doesn't matter how much sympathy these creates, we are now a naked painting everyone is looking at. We have a permanent tattoo of "Raped" inked on our body and soul. We cannot pass a lane without being stared or talked about. We are also blamed for your pleasure and suddenly our wardrobe becomes the topic of discussion.

And it doesn't matter how strong we are, but when faced with such physical and mental trauma we have no option than to end our life. A final breath is more acceptable than to live with that pain. We prefer death and again, thanks to you, the man, the brother, the father, the boyfriend, the husband, the son, the friend, the neighbor, the colleague or the trust-worthy stranger we thought you were.

But sometimes we are not provided with the "blessing" of death and we just hang in there with a million tubes inside and tons of blood outside our body. Sometimes we just live with those bruises on our body and scars on our soul. Sometimes we are cursed with your offspring inside our belly as a reminder of your barbaric crime. Sometimes, the meaning of life just changes from living to surviving.

Such is the misery you create.

We are sisters, mothers, friends, wives, daughters, but before that we are women and there is nothing more dangerous than a woman who has nothing to lose. DO NOT make us lose everything. We deny to be your toy. We deny to be your pleasure-machine.

                     

The more you rape, the stronger we become as a community. While you plan to hunt your next victim, a lot of us are learning how to kick you in the nuts. We are taking precautions, we are keeping caution, we are rising, we are re-incarnating, we are gaining power, we are learning to fight, we are learning to say "no" with kicks and punches, we are getting right back at you.

We are not asking for sympathy, we are not requesting you, we are warning you. Do not test our patience for once the pot of our wrath will overflow, we will rape your existence from this world.

  

(Not yours) truly,

A wrathful woman on behalf of wrathful women