By Rishika Kaushik
I was never the one for silence,
but the people around me,
did not always know the answers to my questions,
and sometimes turning the other way was easier,
to look within, to look around,
and question the society we live in,
where a daughter is a father's honour and respect,
but the son inherits the property,
where the parents have done their duty,
by marrying their daughter to a nice suitable boy,
but if the marriage does not work out,
it is her luck and she must carry on.
I am the questions which were never asked,
if asked, never answered.
Dad, why do we have to care about society so much?
Mom, why does it matter what the relatives say?
I am inconformity,
unaccepting of social pressures,
a privilege many women are never allowed.
I was seven when my father told me,
the seven generations of my ancestors.
And every night I memorised them,
repeated them after him,
mesemeried,trying hard to remember.
As a child,
I have always thought of myself as a black sheep,
with questions and anger,
different from all my cousins,
loved,cherished,celeberated and silenced,
the dutiful daughters and the obedient sons,
but the history of the seven generations,
made me feel like I belonged.
I was my grandfather's favourite,
the one he would hide mangoes for,
candies for and love for,
all these years.
When I told my grandfather,
as a seventeen year old.
grandpa I will go to a different country to study,
he believed me,
a man who has never seen the inside of a passport,
a man well looked after and loved,
but who has seen women's destiny to be marriage,
believed me.
Never questioned, never scoffed,
That is how I remember him as a feminist,
a silent ally.
My father is a feminist,
who does not understand the meaning of the word feminism,
But tries to practise it every day.
He moves ahead with time,
and tries to change.
In my adulthood,
listing to a play about an artist's family history,
I started thinking about mine,
and remembered the seven generations,
the names.....
And realised there was not a single women in them,
but no one has ever noticed.
when all these men came from women,
they were erased from history.
I am rage and anger,
all the emotions women are never allowed to be.
I was never the one for silence,
but learned recently,
when you are someone trained in literature and gender studies,
you notice the little things,
the everyday practises,
treating women differently,
how a mother is the last person on a dinner table,
because she is “nurturing”
how every time a women leaves her home alone,
she looks behind her shoulder to ensure,
she is safe, she is alive and she can exist.
For now…
and you have discussions with friends and acquaintances,
and you notice,
how the conversation goes quiet,
every time you enter a room,
and how by pointing out someone else's inherent patriarchy,
like she is wearing such short clothes are asking for it,
or she got hired because she is a women,
you become a feminist killjoy.
I was never then one for silence,
but sometimes I have no energy.
I always had questions you see,
questions which were not answered,
so the writer in me, became a researcher,
so when people ask about my work,
often the response is women safety, gender inequality in India,
does that still exist?
And often a minute later at parties,
one of my girlfriends ask,
babe can you watch my drink,
while I go and wee.
I am someone,
who has taught courses on Feminism,
and the moment the word,
Feminism enters the classroom there is an uproar,
without understanding its meaning.
I repeat my favourite Bell Hooks title,
Feminism is for everybody.
My feminism asks for equal rights,
irrespective of their gender,religion,race and class.
My feminism if for everybody,
my queer friends who hide,
the young boys who cannot cry,
my friends who do not feel,
like they belong in their own bodies.
My feminism is for humanity,
a right to be as we please,
a right to be happy with our sexuality.
People often tell me that,
my idea of the world is made up of dreams.
We must play our roles,
and be scared of society.
But all I ask is it is people like you and me,
who make up society,
and it is people like you and me,
who can turn ideas into reality.
I am quite privileged,
I have a father who believes in me,
but who sacrificed his own dreams to provide.
a mother who supports my dreams,
but has forgotten what her own dreams looked like.
We question, we battle, we learn from each other,
about the clutches of culture and patriarchy.
My father asks me extremely curious,
if I do not get married, will I become a monk?
I can feel myself getting angry,
but remind myself,
he has never seen women in his generation,
and he thinks these are the only choices.
So I tell him all about it,
the choices in between.
I am a daughter,
but not allowed to call myself a lover,
because that will lead to shame,
As people around me remind me,
women in civil societies are wives, not lovers.
I stand today unashamed, uncivil,
and give myself a promotion,
from the family black sheep,
to the feminist killjoy,
happy embracing my new role,
with only one goal.
That next time, a little girl asks the seven generations,
she will know the a women lived here, breathed her,
with skin and blood,
with love with flaws,
and this bloodline will be remembered through me,
I will leave my imprint.
I was never the one for silence,
so today, I use my voice.