The treatment of women in my country. I’ve always been but the feeling ( a mix of helplessness and rage) grows more pronounced when there’s a shocking incident, and trust me, it’s almost every day.
As per the National Crime Records Bureau latest report ( 2022), the reported crimes against women per 100,000 women population is 66.4%.
While you dwell on the magnitude of that, I want to present to you the latest trigger:
This man shot his daughter, Radhika Yadav, four times in the back while she was cooking breakfast in the kitchen. The victim, 25 year old Radhika, was a state level Tennis player & also mentored students.
Ironically, it was her father who had first introduced her to the sport. Her success, coupled with taunts from his friends and peers, reportedly embittered him. There are also other unverified reports doing the rounds.
This would have been the extent of my rage normally, I would have shed a tear or two, as I do when I read about such cases, but then I stumbled upon hordes of people (mostly men) justifying this heinous act in the name of protecting family “honor.”
I decided against sharing those screengrabs because such filth should remain contained. I understand people ( can they be called that though) share contrarian views to stand out or even stand to gain a few dollars from the Twitter Blue subscription model that encourages rage baiting and engagement farming.
But, there are thousands of accounts liking such posts!!!
Thousands of people behind their screens endorsing the idea of men killing women and girls because they chose ( or wanted to choose) independence: financial, emotional or both.
On one hand, we have countless government schemes promoting education and financial independence for the girl child, some even tied to incentives. There are policies aimed at women’s food and financial security.
Yet all of this exists in a society that would still rather see women strapped down, wrapped around the finger of a man.
And I know this isn’t just India. Misogyny is as pervasive as otherization. In some places, the façade is better preserved. In others, the cracks show more easily, torn open by poverty, social evils, or just unchecked entitlement.
Somedays, I really do want to go underground, like Eudoria Holmes and join a movement that will ensure women all over the world be protected somehow. Somedays, the realist in me just wants to run away to a country where it’s better than here.
But the darkness is all consuming, most days. and I feel just so helpless.
Fingers in symphony 