“Get away from that damned mirror now!” My best friend’s shouting shocked me into a realisation. And it wasn’t about my narcissism.

She had simply had enough of the obsessive 30-minute clothes-changing routine I had been following every morning since I moved to Bangalore. Every morning, selecting and discarding clothes desperately looking for something “safe” to wear before stepping out on the street.

By Monica James (Love Matters)

Rules
I have been a victim of what we quaintly call “eve teasing” on many occasions, just like every girl I know. I have been groped, pinched, stalked, attacked and I know the shame, helplessness and sense of being violated far too intimately.

And time and again I have received a list of rules and “well meant” advice that so many of my friends have also received: avoid crowded places, dress modestly, don’t look anyone in the eye, don’t laugh loudly, don’t draw attention to yourself, don’t be out late, don’t react.

Rage
While it may be well intentioned, my response to such advice had always been one of sheer rage. I remember telling my favourite aunt if it wouldn’t be more convenient for me to just disappear after she recited her usual list of “don’ts” before taking me out shopping. I wasn’t angry at her, just at the rules I had to follow to walk unharassed on a street in my own city.

Slapped
During the time that I spent in Delhi and Bombay I had slapped men who felt me up on train stations and poked unidentified groping hands with safety pins on crowded buses. Whenever I was harassed or attacked, I had screamed, retaliated and basically refused to be cowed down.

“Whores”
The day I moved to Bangalore, six months back, my best friend and I were out to buy groceries at twelve in the afternoon when three men got out of an auto and started hurling abuses at us from across the road. They spat at us calling us “whores” for wearing “western clothes”. I shouted back, telling them to shut their eyes if they were so offended by the clothes we were wearing.

Threat
The men started crossing the road, saying something about wanting to “give us what we deserved”. The onlookers didn’t utter a word or offer to help as the men charged towards us. Fortunately my friend pushed us into a passing auto. Though we walked away from the situation physically unharmed, the threat of violence and sheer hostility I felt that day stayed with me.

Control
The realisation I had last month was that without evening knowing it, I had started following “the rules”. That incident had changed the way I felt about this city and myself. It changed the way I walked, dressed, interacted with men – it had taken control. But I’m taking back control. I will inhabit this city and walk its streets without apologies – pepper spray in hand.