8th October, 2015 11.30 a.m.
As a woman, I’m scared. And this is not to take away from anything that men have to be scared of in their lives or to say that their lives are easy. I haven’t lived the life of a man. I cannot say what it is like. I’m only speaking of the life I have, in fact, lived. And in that life, I am often scared.
A lot of decisions in my everyday life are influenced by how scared on a scale of 1 to 10 I feel about going ahead with something as a woman. Or how likely things are to go wrong.
A 5 is regular – do-able.
A 9 is life threatening.
Going alone to Chingrighata to buy something to eat at night is a 7.5.
A 7.5 is when I can take a risk but if something goes wrong, for example, if I get molested, it’ll probably be termed as my fault. What was I doing there alone anyway, right? And this isn’t a rant or a talk about how unsafe we as a society are for women. No. These are just cold hard facts about how I make my decisions in life. I’m sorry if it reflects badly on the state of affairs that be.
Yesterday night I just felt like going and sitting by a lake. I think it was 6.30 p.m. but since winters are approaching, it was already dark. And I couldn’t go. I just couldn’t. I had to prioritize between the satisfaction of coming back with a good time and a clear head or coming back raped. Either was very possible. Very real.
If you’re a woman and you haven’t been sexually assaulted or molested at some point in your life, you’re one hell of a lucky girl and I am so happy for you I cannot even begin to describe. You are the reason I’ll have such hopes for my daughter. And then I’ll be scared again. For her.
I was scared of being alone in a room with a boy when I was in a relationship with him. What if he doesn’t understand that I’m trying to say no? What he if thinks I am playing hard to get? What if he means well but ends up making me spend hours in the bathroom trying to scrub myself clean anyway? What if he doesn’t even mean well? It was a 6 on my scale because he seemed like a good guy; the kind that understand the concept of consent. He knew that my parents and friends knew him and where to find him. I’d taken every precaution I could have about this situation.
It was a 6. Do-able-ish-kind-of.
And when I came out unscathed, I still considered myself lucky and thanked some unknown entity for having given me an experience to cherish.
A lot of good memories I have are of such “risks” I have taken in life in general. Going out at night, breathing in the early morning air, living. Most of these now cherished memories were a 6 or above “risk” category adventure. The best ones were these two 9 point ones. A 9 is “reckless abandon”.
One in London. The other while trekking and travelling solo in Scotland. Worth the risk. I don’t even remember how scared I was then because I had given up worrying. I had thought in my head of what was the worst that could happen and then done what I wanted to anyway because those “worst things” could happen to me while crossing the street back home as well. Today I was texting a guy who could in general private conversations with friends be described as a “total hottie” and I was oscillating between meeting him again or not. I didn’t know much about him.
It could be a 6 or an 8.5.
That’s a big range to work with. It complicates the entire process. I’m the kind of person that generally hates to be governed by fear in what I do. So anything that is below 6 is not even considered for any great length of time. In hindsight I don’t even realize I was scared. But 6 and above is something that cannot be taken lightly. I’ve decided this one is an 8 based on circumstances. Now I have to think about whether I should proceed or not. Time shall tell. That is why when a friend of mine met this “certified non-creep guy” the other day and he asked her out on a date, I was super happy and excited for her. She could have a good evening with another man and it was practically a 2 point situation.
A 2. For an experience that many a times comes with a 5 or above rating. LUCKY.
A 1 or 2 is generally me and my girl friends going out for a late dinner with no alcohol involved. Safe.
A 0 is me in my hostel room with the door bolted.
A 10 is me not thinking about the various possibilities of things that may go wrong simply because I’m a woman and living my life normally with everyday considerations. A 10 is when I go out late and the only thing I take into account is possibly not finding a cab or being mugged or something. A 10 is when I wear a dress and head to a club alone and have a drink and not think about date rape drugs in the drink or moral policing. A 10 is when I believe that my being a woman has nothing to do with how safe I am or not. That is what scares me the most. That I may have taken a decision without factoring in my “woman-ness”.
A 10 is what ideally should not be on a scale of how scared I am at all. A 10 is what shouldn’t be on a scale of how likely things are to go wrong. But it is.
Should I stay in tonight? Let’s see…
As a woman, I’m scared. And this is not to take away from anything that men have to be scared of in their lives or to say that their lives are easy. I haven’t lived the life of a man. I cannot say what it is like. I’m only speaking of the life I have, in fact, lived. And in that life, I am often scared.
A lot of decisions in my everyday life are influenced by how scared on a scale of 1 to 10 I feel about going ahead with something as a woman. Or how likely things are to go wrong.
A 5 is regular – do-able.
A 9 is life threatening.
Going alone to Chingrighata to buy something to eat at night is a 7.5.
A 7.5 is when I can take a risk but if something goes wrong, for example, if I get molested, it’ll probably be termed as my fault. What was I doing there alone anyway, right? And this isn’t a rant or a talk about how unsafe we as a society are for women. No. These are just cold hard facts about how I make my decisions in life. I’m sorry if it reflects badly on the state of affairs that be.
Yesterday night I just felt like going and sitting by a lake. I think it was 6.30 p.m. but since winters are approaching, it was already dark. And I couldn’t go. I just couldn’t. I had to prioritize between the satisfaction of coming back with a good time and a clear head or coming back raped. Either was very possible. Very real.
If you’re a woman and you haven’t been sexually assaulted or molested at some point in your life, you’re one hell of a lucky girl and I am so happy for you I cannot even begin to describe. You are the reason I’ll have such hopes for my daughter. And then I’ll be scared again. For her.
I was scared of being alone in a room with a boy when I was in a relationship with him. What if he doesn’t understand that I’m trying to say no? What he if thinks I am playing hard to get? What if he means well but ends up making me spend hours in the bathroom trying to scrub myself clean anyway? What if he doesn’t even mean well? It was a 6 on my scale because he seemed like a good guy; the kind that understand the concept of consent. He knew that my parents and friends knew him and where to find him. I’d taken every precaution I could have about this situation.
It was a 6. Do-able-ish-kind-of.
And when I came out unscathed, I still considered myself lucky and thanked some unknown entity for having given me an experience to cherish.
A lot of good memories I have are of such “risks” I have taken in life in general. Going out at night, breathing in the early morning air, living. Most of these now cherished memories were a 6 or above “risk” category adventure. The best ones were these two 9 point ones. A 9 is “reckless abandon”.
One in London. The other while trekking and travelling solo in Scotland. Worth the risk. I don’t even remember how scared I was then because I had given up worrying. I had thought in my head of what was the worst that could happen and then done what I wanted to anyway because those “worst things” could happen to me while crossing the street back home as well. Today I was texting a guy who could in general private conversations with friends be described as a “total hottie” and I was oscillating between meeting him again or not. I didn’t know much about him.
It could be a 6 or an 8.5.
That’s a big range to work with. It complicates the entire process. I’m the kind of person that generally hates to be governed by fear in what I do. So anything that is below 6 is not even considered for any great length of time. In hindsight I don’t even realize I was scared. But 6 and above is something that cannot be taken lightly. I’ve decided this one is an 8 based on circumstances. Now I have to think about whether I should proceed or not. Time shall tell. That is why when a friend of mine met this “certified non-creep guy” the other day and he asked her out on a date, I was super happy and excited for her. She could have a good evening with another man and it was practically a 2 point situation.
A 2. For an experience that many a times comes with a 5 or above rating. LUCKY.
A 1 or 2 is generally me and my girl friends going out for a late dinner with no alcohol involved. Safe.
A 0 is me in my hostel room with the door bolted.
A 10 is me not thinking about the various possibilities of things that may go wrong simply because I’m a woman and living my life normally with everyday considerations. A 10 is when I go out late and the only thing I take into account is possibly not finding a cab or being mugged or something. A 10 is when I wear a dress and head to a club alone and have a drink and not think about date rape drugs in the drink or moral policing. A 10 is when I believe that my being a woman has nothing to do with how safe I am or not. That is what scares me the most. That I may have taken a decision without factoring in my “woman-ness”.
A 10 is what ideally should not be on a scale of how scared I am at all. A 10 is what shouldn’t be on a scale of how likely things are to go wrong. But it is.
Should I stay in tonight? Let’s see…
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