Gender violence is one of the world’s most common human rights abuses. Women worldwide ages 15 through 44 are more likely to die or be maimed because of male violence than because of cancer, malaria, war and traffic accidents combined. The World Health Organization has found that domestic and sexual violence affects 30 to 60 percent of women in most countries.
Rape and domestic violence are words that once removed from the immediacy of the event , whether by time or a mind set in emotional distance, just becomes just too clinical, almost devoid of all that went with it , attached to it. Hence it becomes mere words at some point and yet at other times unreal. The Indian student's death sparked an outcry few years ago , and then it quieted down.There was a celebrity serial molestation buzz for a while, in the US and it too went quiet .
Now something is again awakened of the culture of rape,and its trails into lives of someone else...It may fizzle out with time, but the directed violences will continue . That is almost a given , assured outcome, about lives...with another outcry at the next expose' or next event that comes to light .
All those who are harassed, go through the spacing , almost ritualistically, pushing it out with time. You are lucky if you have done something in a retaliatory fashion , however small, because that alone gives you a certain sense of wholeness.
How-ever, when it is repeated violence , at home,or what surround you,nay follow you in society, then the fabric of self gets worn...gradually shredding your identity. Thus you are no more a whole,but only pieces, as if they are all different in someways, and the person that is you become some flyaway bits you are always gathering up.
Sometimes pushing back can be more damaging, so you wait for a chance and selectively defend parts of your integral self. Some just push it all into a sac that grows wearisome with time, then gets scarred over and your soul gets a little bit darker, as you go through life, never again consciously touching that scarred over foreignness...just barely knowing it , just barely being.
Then, some thing stirs and you remember, your wholeness, almost with the uncertainity of a dream... The memory of a whole follow you , a shadow that evolve, as the scars scale up and fall in bits...you trail through like with the shadow a constant companion, even as you seek that elusive wholeness...
Now something is again awakened of the culture of rape,and its trails into lives of someone else...It may fizzle out with time, but the directed violences will continue . That is almost a given , assured outcome, about lives...with another outcry at the next expose' or next event that comes to light .
All those who are harassed, go through the spacing , almost ritualistically, pushing it out with time. You are lucky if you have done something in a retaliatory fashion , however small, because that alone gives you a certain sense of wholeness.
How-ever, when it is repeated violence , at home,or what surround you,nay follow you in society, then the fabric of self gets worn...gradually shredding your identity. Thus you are no more a whole,but only pieces, as if they are all different in someways, and the person that is you become some flyaway bits you are always gathering up.
Sometimes pushing back can be more damaging, so you wait for a chance and selectively defend parts of your integral self. Some just push it all into a sac that grows wearisome with time, then gets scarred over and your soul gets a little bit darker, as you go through life, never again consciously touching that scarred over foreignness...just barely knowing it , just barely being.
Then, some thing stirs and you remember, your wholeness, almost with the uncertainity of a dream... The memory of a whole follow you , a shadow that evolve, as the scars scale up and fall in bits...you trail through like with the shadow a constant companion, even as you seek that elusive wholeness...
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