IRONY .. ‘Posh’ residential neighbourhood .. around 9:00pm .. walking calmly down the street .. cyclist coming towards me .. warning bells at the look in his eyes .. while passing by me, does the predictable – expresses what he wishes to do to me (using a typical bengali word which people use rampantly on Calcutta streets with minor variations) ..
I SEE RED .. run after him screaming at the top of my voice (loud enough to wake the dead) .. scared a**h*** speeds away before I can reach him .. people standing by in a daze; I’m sure most of them were actually shocked to see a woman hurling verbal abuse at someone .. scandalised that she’s actually repeating such ‘unladylike’ words at the top of her voice .. next-door neighbour comes forward to offer help in catching the offender .. I repeat the guy’s comment (no paraphrasing) .. but the guy’s long gone by then ..
FRUSTRATED (again) .. wasn’t fast enough to catch up with him and push him off his bicycle and kick the shit out of him .. the people in the vicinity were probably more affected by my ‘unwomanly’ behaviour than at that a’s actions – ‘men will be men’, right? ..
MAYBE .. they would have shown a little more interest if I’d been screaming ‘HELP’ instead of hurling abuse at the guy .. then they would have felt more like ‘protectors’ and come forward to help a ‘helpless woman’ in distress ..
I REFUSE to oblige & give them the satisfaction .. SO THERE !!
When we term heterosexuals as ‘straight’, doesn’t it automatically imply that homesexual/transexual/transgender people are ‘crooked’ or ‘twisted’ in some way?
I have even wondered where the term originated and if anyone else shares my dislike/repulsion of the adjective.
I received the following comment on Facebook against a similar status update:
“The word origin is disputed but it is widely believed that the nomenclature was done by the homosexual community to highlight how “straight and narrow” a heterosexual’s world view was.”
– Arijit Sen
If this is true, I appreciate and understand the appropriateness of the tag. However, this term depresses me. As a heterosexual woman who is appalled at any kind of discrimination, I would love to see this term losing ground and finally disappearing altogether.
The voices are cheerful. Drinks all around. Story-telling sessions. Someone shares an anecdote; it leaves everyone laughing. A word, a sound – she leaves the room and walks down the corridor. The light from the room shines into the corridor, but most of it is in darkness. She walks into the arms of the darkness. It’s the relentless pull of an old friend. No room for secrets.
The door’s still there – solid, imposing. She rubs her hand lightly over the texture; it feels the same. It brings back memories of all those times she stood in this exact place. She is blinded momentarily by the familiar flashes of pain.
Maybe today is like always.
Unsure as ever, she slowly turns the handle. It feels heavy in her hand. She steps into the room. She remembers it from the last time she was in here. The boxes are all there. She glances at the shiny, bright-colored boxes as she walk by; a ragged doll, the cover of her favorite storybook, the blanket, a torn sheet out of her first diary. The musty smell wakes her out of her reverie. Even the doll stares accusingly at her. She has been trying so hard, over and over and over again; she pleads with her, but the doll glares relentlessly; she doesn’t want her fairy dress to smell of pain. It doesn’t matter; she will have to try again. She can’t let the smell overtake her beautiful boxes too. That would hurt too much, like all those times when there was no air to breathe.