A Cry for Hope and Peace

"In the midst of winter, I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer
"-Albert Camus

Recently I heard a story about a young girl who survived two years of captivity after being raped repeatedly and the only thing flashing across my mind, at that time, was what if that had been me?

My grandmother used to say that where you are born is purely coincidental. At that time I was too young to understand the implications of that simple belief. The horrifying story brought to mind that idea and I was not able to shake off the fear that arose from a nagging question in my mind; the question that is haunting me days after hearing about that young girl: What if I had taken birth in the womb of a mother who was unfortunate enough to be living in a backward, violent home country?
I cannot imagine living a life in fear of stepping out of the boundaries of my home or being scared of having too much of fun or going out for picnics or holidays with my friends- moments and opportunities we take for granted everyday. I do not want to acknowledge a world where a mother has to ignore her child to defeat her rapist’s motives, where she has to depend on luck to escape a cage, where a baby has to grow up with the stigma of being a rape child and all the implications that come with it. I had been living in a world of ignorance where ideas like rape and molestation were just texts in a book or a piece of news to be talked about but never acknowledged as a part of your world but that young girls story told in the form of rules to remember by which a girl can protect her soul when her body is being torn to shreds, broke that dam of illusion for me.

When I stepped outside the bubble of security that my parents had created since the day I was born, for the first time ever I felt what it was like to be afraid and my stomach hurt out of the exertion. Now, in comparison to that teen who was sexually attacked and violated, forced into submission, I feel ashamed of my fear. A fear that I had deemed the worse thing that could happen to anyone, was in fact not even close to a drop in the ocean of pain that that girl and many more like her suffer everyday in the villages of Africa or even India, my own country.

Why am I so special that I was saved from living a life of constant danger? Or am I as free as I think I am. In New Delhi, which is a stone throw away from my hometown, in the first four months of 2008, 228 cases of rape and molestation were filed. In fact, “Rape Capital” is a term by which Delhi is often called. A city that is supposed to be the centre for business, economy, a symbol of a New, modern India, is still riddled with conservative families who have no reservation in burning their ‘bahus’, men who consider themselves a better and stronger sex and will not stop inflicting pain and humiliation on the women around them. Even though there are centers for rape victims, girls and women feel the need to shy away from the world or kill themselves to protect their families or from the shame of it all.

I cannot begin to imagine the pain of being invaded in such a manner and to feel so weak and I hope that I never have to. All I can hope for is a better world where a man is able to feel for and respect the women they interact with. And realize that every time they perceive a girl with contempt and as a toy to play with they are, quite literally, inflicting pain on their mothers and sisters and shackling them little by little.

A/N: The story was heard as a part of the Vagina Monologue that took place in UBC, Vancouver, BC