One of these days, I’m going to grab a stick lying on the road and hit someone for a long time.
It’s no longer an issue about my personal safety, or about the safety of my friends and sisters. It has now become an issue much greater. Now, it is about my daughter’s well being.
Women have always been depicted as the soft ones, the ones who are tasked with maintaining the balance of empathy with the men’s age-old love for violence. I won’t be amongst those hardcore females who are distorting and shaming the ideals of feminism. I agree that we women, even the coldest and cruelest ones, we do have the gift of empathy.
But I swear in the names of all the Gods; in all the religions, spread across the entire globe, that if I see one more XY chromosome specimen looking at my daughter like she’s a piece of meat which he can have, I’m going to take the law in my own hands.
I’m going to grab the nearest stick lying on the road and hit him. I’m going to beat some sense into him. The sense that his family, this society, or the law failed to do.
Because now, the issue is about my daughter’s safety. And no one in this entire world can stop me from protecting her.