I Love Men, I Love Men, I Love Men

I LOVE MEN. I LOVE MEN. I LOVE MEN.
I am attracted to many men and everyday I meet men who are kind and wonderful. I write this because that’s not enough. Being kind and wonderful and honest IS not enough, today. I want to love more. For that, I need YOU to understand.

This is a triggering time for me. Bangalore, India is my home. A group of women were molested, in masses, on New Year’s eve, on a street I know too well. Bangalore is where I came out as queer and Bangalore is where I found identity as an artist.

But this, this is not about a place.

It is about each time my breasts are pinched on a train, or my ass is groped, be it during the Chicago Cubs rally or in a tightly packed Mumbai local to Churchgate… OR at house parties or in college, with the guy who brought me to some party, or an ex-boyfriend who didn’t understand what it means to threaten violence.

It is about each time I have to share the same articles with my male friends, and help them understand, what they don’t understand…,
what it is like to walk down the streets with breasts and a backside.

It is about each time my professors, teachers, mentors, all male, have breached my personal space, hugging me too tight, asking for a kiss after a meal, telling me to “not tell.”

It is about the fact that I can count on my fingers my male friends, who openly identify as feminist. Five, five to be exact.

It is about the fact that I cannot count on my toes and fingers, your toes and fingers, and her toes and fingers, the number of times I have experienced assault and had my female and male friends experience assault through sexual objectification and harassment.

This is not about waking up each time a rape, molestation, sexual assault is reported, and asking, “Now, what should we do?” and going back to our lives earning wages, making art, until the next time, when femininity is attacked, again.

This is not about statistics. Which city is safer. Which city is not the “rape capital”. There is no such thing. Every city, every street, every house is “rape capital”. Why? Because the DAMAGING effects of patriarchy are pervasive. So invisible, so internalized, our fathers get triggered if we bring it up and our male friends call us too sensitive, asking us to forget, to protect, to dress better and not tempt. (Message me if you want to read about this)

I know nothing else but to dedicate my life, my therapy, my work, my relationships, my friendships, my parenting to lessening the damages of the patriarchy. If my posts trigger you, great. If my work triggers you, great. If my life triggers you, great.

I refuse to be exhausted. I refuse to die a death where my voice is unheard and I shall agitate, educate, organize, share, speak, build, argue till my last breath, till women can walk from their house till the grocery store without fear.

Image: The Fearless Collective

http://fearlesscollective.tumblr.com/

On Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/thefearlesscollective

And please note, dear readers- there is a reason I’m not saying I’ll keep working till EVERYONE can walk safe. I would love that. That would be ideal and that’s what the world must look like. But that’s not the point here. The specific trouble being addressed here is female objectification and assault by male privilege, which is one of the damaging effects of patriarchy.

 

 

What They Said

 

Since I published this post, I have been receiving many messages asking me to stop talking about friends’ personal lives. Just to clarify, this is a narrative based on memory. When I was young, I heard someone in the near family making a choice and that influenced me. What comes out now, is fictional.

Displayed at University of Michigan SAPAC ( Sexual Abuse and Prevention Centre, Ann Arbour, Michigan)’s art exhibit called Revolution, the pictures can be found here.

You were an object
A toy
An instrument
They said
He used you
They said
I have a girlfriend
He said
She loves me
He said
But doesn’t fuck me
Like you do

He said
I love her
He said
I love you
He said
He used you
They said
You fuck me too well
He said
To let go
He said
Would you love me too
I said
If she didn’t love you
I said

You think too much
He said
Won’t you hold me tonight
He said
I like your hat
She said
Walking in the snow
Hot ginger lemon in one hand
The other arm

Tightly tucked
In his
You have lovely eyes
I said
Heard so much about you
I said
Seen your picture
I said
He loves you
I said
The girl who fucked dishonesty
They said
The boy who loved
Two worlds
They said
And kept each a secret
They said
Because the girl was too nice
They said
She was scared
They said
To lose what she never had
They said
How did they know
I said
Can you keep a secret
I said
I’ve just met you
She said
Smiling, amused by this girl
But, sure
She said
Tell me
Don’t we need to go
He said
It is getting late
He said
It is getting late
I said
It is probably
Too late already
I said
Whatever do you mean
She said
I fucked him
I said
He fucked me
I said
He fucked you
I said

You are a whore
A bloody whore
She said
Bloody
She said

An honest one
She said
Coffee in our hands
What could I do
I said
What can I do
She said

You are a whore
They said
You shouldn’t have told her
They said
You won’t sleep with me, then?
He said
You are a fucker
She said
She was right
She said.