A story about the four letter word, not “love”, not “lust”, but “rape”. I have heard a lot of them, scared women, stone-faced women, crying women, full of hatred women, ashamed women, determined women, telling their story. And some men too who are almost always ashamed to confess.
The girl who is scared of teachers coming too close for comfort, the woman who wonders why her mother came crying late that night with injuries all over and why her daughter has started laughing helplessly when her father slaps her, the guy who doesnt understand why his sister hates men even when he himself wipes some of his memories clean, the guy who was forced down by an older friend, the guy who was taken to an adult movie at the age of 7, the girl who was raped repeatedly by her uncle till he got married since she was 9, the girl whose father harassed her drunk, the girl who was told she was looking less uglier at the age of 12 by a family friend aged 50 who would stare at her breasts, the girl who was felt up by an older guy during a game of hide and seek, the guy who was forcefully kissed by an older “di” he was playing with, the girl who started tying her hair up and clenching her hands because the 40 year old teacher kept touching them, the girl who has learned that guy friends are not the same as girl friends.
And these are just the stories I have heard firsthand.
These are the statistics I know and believe in. All unreported cases, all helpless people, all who regret not fighting back, all who hate that people around them told them to shut up, all those who had no one to help.
