A Reply to “My Choice”

I am reposting this article which I had written circa July last year. This is a sarcastic response to Deepika Padukone’s My Choice video on YouTube that relates feminism and liberalism to things that do not make sense. I  respect women as much as I respect men and am not here to offend any lady and if you feel offended in spite of  this explanation, you are one of those feminists who are on the wrong track.

Last night I had a crazy dream in which I was born with the XX chromosome in the 21st Century and was a follower of the  neo-feminism. This is how free and powerful I felt:

Yes! I’m a woman. So what if I’m stupid? So what if I have a huge ego? So what if I make mistakes? So what if I make huge mistakes? So what if I dumped my 3 years’ boyfriend for another guy whose smile is cute? I have a lot of choices. I’m a woman. I’m confident. I’m real. I’m outgoing, sharp, witty and humorous. So what if no one else calls me that? I believe in myself. I’m beautiful. I represent my gender so I think it’s important not only to raise my voice, but also to keep it raised even over petty issues. I have cheated twice in my relationship and I have the guts to accept it. I’m not a bitch, I’m not a slit and don’t you dare me call that! I’m a woman. I’m impatient and demanding. I want my man to be a gentleman. TDH. So what if I’m fat? Real men go for curves. Real men are sartorial. My man has to dress up like a real man. I don’t like wearing my bra sometimes. I’m just lazy. I love chocolates. I love flowers. I love being pampered. I love everything that the internet says should be loved by women. My man should buy me everything that I desire. He should be capable. After all he is going to be MY MAN! 
I’m ambitious. I deserve respect even though I haven’t done anything worth it because I am a woman. I’m free. Free to live, free to love, free to make mistakes, free to do what I want. No rules can keep me shackled. So what if I drove in the opposite direction on a one way road? I’m a woman. How do you expect me to know all the boring traffic rules? Look at me, I’m so tired of having to drive, can’t you just let me go ahead of you? Where is your respect for women? Show it now! 
I’m from Venus. All women are from Venus and men are from Mars. I love using that line even though I don’t understand what it means. All men are the same. They want sex. Even if they say and prove that they love a woman, I know they want sex. I want sex too. I need to meet my bodily demands. But if men say that, it’s just another excuse to get laid. I don’t trust men. I’m sexy because I feel sexy. I’m hot, you’re not. So what if that sounds rude? I have freedom of thought. I slept with my best friend’s boyfriend but don’t you call me a whore. Because I later felt terrible about it and wrote an article on ThoughtCatalog about how terrible I felt. I want a nice wedding. That’s every girl’s dream. But I want to have a lot of fun before that. My boyfriend should stay loyal to me if he wants to marry me. But Neal is so alluring and rich. I’m just confused between these two guys. I don’t know who is better for me. I love Twilight. It’s so cute because even when Bella is confused between two guys, both of them love her madly. Why can’t that happen to me? I’m sweet and simple. I’m complicated. That’s why my boyfriend doesn’t understand me. I don’t even love him and he thinks we’d get married. Oh God! Did I just say that? Shit. Shit. Shit. Actually I want someone better because I deserve better. I’m a 21st century woman. This is feminism, this is us and all you men are sexists, and I can say that in your face. Yes! I’m a woman. 

And the dream ended there. *sigh*


Why Aren’t We Going Anywhere With The Boobs

I know a feminist who finds men’s attraction towards boobs ‘completely stupid’ because she thinks ‘men and women are equal and so are their bodies.’ Although she can never understand the pain when someone kicks a guy in the balls and although that argument would win the debate for me if I decide to to explain how men and women have different bodies, I want to talk about something else because what this petty feminist further said was, “Respect our body by treating it equally to yours.”
Long ago, I had read an article by Guardian’s Jessica Valenti in which she said,”If we want to normalise women’s bodies, we need to present them with a shrug, not just a wink. They’re bodies,we are people, deal with it.”
I know many that people would go in agreement with this and in fact there is nothing grossly wrong with whatever Valenti said and yet, I believe that normalising women’s bodies isn’t going to take us anywhere. Because the internet is a playground.
Look, even if this whole normalising-women’s-bodies thing really happens and we learn to look at Scarlett Johanssen’s tits like we would look at Bradley Cooper’s, the internet will still need something that can go viral.


That is how normalising women's body would be achieved.

And by that time, since we all will have had our lessons to treat boobs like they’re not boobs, some woman (I believe this woman will be a ThoughtCatalog writer because you find those feminists there in plenty) will say, “Women have attractive bodies. Men should learn to respect that. Looking at a woman’s body in the same manner as they look at a man’s, they are insulting our beauty and us.”
Then Kim Kardashian will do something for the Paper Mag again and try her bit to sell her saggy skin again. That’s what I am saying. Even if Valenti is trying to convey something and wants us to listen, it won’t take us anywhere. Because, I repeat, the internet is a playground and we are it’s followers. Deal with it.

The Making of a Man

It was one of those March evenings when the air is soothing in an unique fashion – like an elixir, miraculously healing the wrath of the hot day. It made him feel confident and he was glad in his mind for otherwise she could have seen through him, his shy, boyish manners being displayed naked to her. He looked at her. She was pacing to keep up with his brisk walk, but there was an air of disagreement about her – like she hated this idea of walking. And her walk was itself monotonous, almost mechanical as if she was being dragged against her wish.

“Are you exhausted?” he asked her out of concern. She didn’t seem to absorb the question quickly.

“No”, she said after pausing for a moment.

But of course he could clearly see that she wasn’t exhausted. She was bored of walking and he knew it but he feared that asking whether she was bored, he might induce a thin layer of boredom between them. He certainly didn’t want to do that.

“I’m exhausted, let us wait here for a while, shall we?” he asked.

“Sure”, she murmured.

Smiling to himself he stood there with his hands in his pockets, looking at the small pond that stood still in front of them. The water was very shallow and he wished it was deep. He wished to find a bird’s song in their immediate vicinity, or a flower somewhere in sight. He was just looking for signs of something, anything in fact that would make the scene romantic. But to his misfortune even when he kept looking for such signs of romance in the fading lights of the dusk, tiring his eyes while doing so, there seemed to be nothing of that sort. A trifle sad, he turned towards her. She was looking at him straight with tenderness and a very discreet form of passion in her eyes. But he could, in all his certainty, see it. He had known her closely as a friend only for over a couple of months, his unrequited love towards her however dated back to three years from now and all the knowledge of her that he had gained in these years, everything he could understand about her didn’t fail to confirm him that it was nothing but passion in her eyes. However, as he walked closer to her, he gulped at the temerity of his own thought. Unsure about whether or not should he hold her in his arms – for he loved her but could not claim her yet, he trembled while gripping her wrist. In that one moment, a moment which, it seemed she was waiting for, she put both her hands around his neck and looked intently at him to react, and at that very moment, as if fate wanted to amuse itself of their reactions, an approaching car brightened up there faces and sped by. It was gone before they knew it, but with it had gone the moment. She withdrew herself from him, half embarrassed and half clueless about what should she say.

He was quiet, but he couldn’t conceal from her the immense pleasure he was enjoying for now he knew that she wanted it. He knew that all the time while he was looking at the pond, she had been craving for it. He felt as if the burden of impressing her, the burden he had carried for three years was shed off. His efforts had bore fruits. There was suddenly a careless attribute about him – of a particular type that men have when they deal with women. 

“Do you want to kiss?” he asked in a vaguely rough tone destroying the unspoken finesse they had woven between them in all this while. 

“No…”, she stammered, surprised the boldness he possessed all of a sudden. She was jealous of him for having the courage to say it out loud, and at the same time she admired how he wasn’t shy anymore like he was moments ago.

“You wouldn’t want to regret this moment later”, he said in a confident tone, almost rude as if only she wanted to kiss, as if he was doing her a favor by letting her a chance to do it, but of course he didn’t realize it. However, she could sense and see the man’s pride in him and she hated it. She hated the way he treated her the since the minute he knew that she wanted him and she hated how he had ruined the tenderness of the moment. She despised the man that rose inside him in one moment, killing his boyish charm and his efforts to please her. It was painful to her. And yet, above everything else, she wanted to kiss him. As she submissively plunged forward in his arms and put her mouth to his, she molded something that was always going to hurt her, she made him a man in his heart. The kind of man women mention when they say, “All men are the same.”