16 December 2012. 9:30pm. New Delhi, India.
A
23-year-old female physioteraphy student and a male companion
were kidnapped, beaten and robbed in New Delhi. She was raped by six
men in a moving bus, who also used a rusted iron rod to penetrate her,
then they were both thrown to the side of the road naked. They were
found around 11pm. During the following days, she was in and out of
coma, and in severe shock whenever she opened her eyes. Thirteen days
later, she died of multiple organ failure. He survived.
I
was in India when this happened. The country is angry, and the
population is asking for the abusers, of which one is a minor, to be
hung. A few days after the rape,
there were student protests in New Delhi
demanding changes in the law and security to women in India. My desire
to go was strong, but not as strong as the fear to be out at night in
New Delhi, an unfamiliar place, known for its crimes towards women. My
partner, also female, and I felt a deeper interpretation of fear these
days we were there. We felt insecure, angry and hopeless. And we are
strong, daring and adventurous women. At that moment, that didn't
matter. I even had the thought of how my fear would change if I had my
best friend, a male, traveling with us. It would. Not much, as we
learned from the case above, but it would. One of the days we went to
visit a garden with beautiful plant sculptures of Buddah. I had been
looking forward to it since before leaving home. We got lost and
arrived there a little before sunset. When we entered, we had about 50
eyes on us. All men. We hesitated for a
second, then we ran and got into a rickshaw who charged us about ten
times what the ride was worth. What money is worth the risk of being
touched, abused, or violated by a stranger? None. Were we overreacting?
Maybe, but no reasonable thought would make me walk into that gated
garden. On our way back home in the metro, I felt something I never felt
before, and I believe it is something close to a panic attack. There
were about sixty men, and three women in our cart. Nothing happened,
only constant staring for about 30 minutes. Still, the consistent
thought of what had happened to that girl a few nights before, who was
still struggling for her life at that time, and that the small knife I
had in my pocket couldn't do anything if two, or fifty men decided to
hurt us. That was when I realized how unreasonably unfair and violent
this world can be. That moment I decided to
rise.
I disagree with execution of the
offenders. I agree with education. We, women and men, from any and all
backgrounds, languages and cultures, must rise to educate,
to inform, and to serve as examples of change. Change happens when we
fight for it. People rising and speaking up has been the only means by
which society changed, has been changing and will change. In April
2011, Toronto's chief police officer, when approached regarding
increasing numbers of rape in universities, requested women to dress
less like sluts in order to not be victimized. The Slut Walk, everywhere
in the world, started, and it has taught me valuable lessons, as I hope
it has others.
It saddens me to see friends
about my age undergo the pressure of a sexist society, where the women
believe they are less powerful, less intelligent, less
human, weaker and
shallow individuals and that male dominance, including any form of
abuse is acceptable. It frustrates me to think that my 4-year-old niece
and 8 year-old brother will grow up in such a world. It brings tears to
my eyes to even think of possibility of them being victims of behaviors
from such society that has yet to understand fairness, human rights,
equality, and justice.
It is my duty to fight for change.
That is why I
rise.
Submitted by the amazing Carla Locatelli of both Salt Lake City, Utah and São Paulo Brazil
