Secret Diary of a Feminazi

I

t’s funny how often a woman with a mind of her own and opinions galore is dismissed as a feminist. God forbid if you don’t happen to agree with folks who think a woman is meant to be a voluptuous body sans a mind, a tethered cow, born to serve and please - you are considered an anomaly. If a woman cries foul at being treated as an object, pawed and groped at every available opportunity, she is accused of overreacting.

Ironically even women are reluctant to identify themselves as feminists for the fear of being branded as man-hating, bra-burning, whiny liberals. Even among the so called metrosexual crowd, feminism is still seen as too radical, too uncomfortable or simply unnecessary.
 
It seems ‘Feminist’ is the new four lettered word!
 
As a woman who doesn’t believe in tempering her emotions and words, I have often been at the receiving end of the F-word. Not the type of person to take things “lying down”, I have decided to mend my ways and behave the way the world expects me to.

Presenting the SECRET DIARY OF A FEMINAZI.

I was all of seven when I knew something was right with me. I was on a reclining chair, waiting with my eyes closed, when I felt a man’s hands inside my mouth. I bit it so hard that my dentist needed a tetanus injection. Not one but fourteen of them.

Me, I was a born fighter. I grew up beating my brother and when I finally got married to a man foolish enough to fall in love with me, I didn’t spare him either. On every weekend and holiday, I beat him black and blue, so what if it’s only in a game of Scrabble. Weekdays I am busy, shouting slogans in front of DNA Tiwari’s residence. Why is it so difficult to accept the unwanted and the unclaimed as his progeny?

Actually every time I want to lose weight, I go on a protest fast. Right to cause earthquake by exposing my cleavage…right to be a slut….right to distribute pink chaddis to men who prefer wearing langotis. As long as the world is full of men who have mindsets that refuse to time travel from the medieval ages, I will have issues that will help me lose weight.

I almost lost three kilos when I saw a product threatening to brighten up my privates – all that raving, ranting… Phew! It was so exhausting. “A liberated woman is one who has sex irrespective of privates” It was retweeted 69 times and I almost became a Twitter celebrity! So famous that I had to hide my face behind kajal smeared eyes and shock of curly hair. Someone even mistook me for Arundhati Roy and tried to stone me.

Sadly, any woman who chooses to behave like a ‘full human’ is treated as something of a dirty joke.

You can hurt my body, but you cannot suppress my inner goddess that’s in a constant Q&A mode. God may be in the details, but the goddess is in the questions. The feminine was born superior yet she is held back by traditions, customs and familial expectations. Only women are blessed with sense and sensibility, a womb that holds the seed of humanity, a brain that thinks and feels and a heart that can love selflessly. A man on the other hand can never be man enough – that unfortunately is the tragedy of machismo.

Yet more and more women have begun raising their daughters more like sons, when they should be raising their sons more like daughters. Why can’t boys play with Barbies and girls with guns? Why wait to grow up before indulging in these games?

I dream of a world where alpha males will be man enough to flaunt their femininity. Sob at the drop of their pallu, outrage when groped and watch saas-bahu serials while their woman tries to seduce that hot boy in leotards at the local bar. A world where women can flaunt their beer bellies, burp and pretend to be funny while they fart. A world where women can rest on their laurels while men constantly struggle to prove they are better. Where ego is more female than male.

Let’s say Ah-men to that!

Courtesy - Google images