Am I a Feminist?

Feminism — a term often abused, confused and rarely understood. The concept seems to be dividing the Internet, especially in India.

I open the window on my screen,
and when I read,
of a girl somewhere,
just like me,

Who was raped or tortured,
or harassed, or killed.
I think of the horror,
If I was she.

Forced, violated,
against my will.
By strange men on the street,
or even by my kin.

Why wouldn’t I hate,
Why wouldn’t I be scared?
Why wouldn’t I be angry,
sitting in my chair?

I don’t hold a candle,
never a placard.
I soak my wrath in words,
but I know it’s a farce.

I think of me,
in that girl’s shoes,
raped in the bus,
or molested in school.

Stripped naked by the eyes,
of men everywhere,
I feel my blood boil,
because nothing has changed.

I am not a man-hater,
or am I one?
I don’t know if it’s me,
or just the situation?

I am not an activist,
nor a famous face,
I have not named my cause,
though it already has a name.

I pick my sword and write,
to draw blood with words.
Am I a feminist?
Or a waiting number?

Follow me on Twitter and Blog.

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