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I Was Attacked By Men On A Nightout, And No, I Didn’t Stop Going Out After That

The story I Was Attacked By Men On A Nightout, And No, I Didn’t Stop Going Out After That appeared first on StoryPick.

Though the wound has healed long back, I can still feel phantom pain at the small of my back sometimes, always accompanied by a chill that runs down my spine. I suppose I still suffer from PTSD sometimes, because of that one incident.

It was one of those light jacket nights in late February, and it wasn’t even that late, only around 12.30 in the night. I was returning with a friend of mine on his scooter after watching a movie. We always watched late night movies, because you know, work hour woes, and also because the ride back home, through the deserted streets at night was always the most tempting and refreshing part; especially if you happen to live in a city that is known for its safe and secure environment.

My friend and I were arguing about how incredibly stupid Channing Tatum looked in Jupiter Ascending; I was taking full advantage of being the pillion rider by smacking my friend on the head whenever I disagreed with him, when suddenly I felt the wind knocked out of me. As I was regaining my ability to speak again, both of us saw a white Scorpio rushing past by us with a bunch of men roaring with laughter, while one of them threw a long metal rod right in front of us.

It took me split second to realize what had happened – that man hit me hard on my back with that metal rod from that running car! And a dreadful thought crossed my mind – what if! What if they’d stopped and beaten us to the pulp? Or worse, what if they had abducted and raped me?

I did not ask “why”, why would they even hit me out of the blue like that, because somehow or the other, I felt guilty. I felt guilty for being out so late in the night, I felt guilty for being out with a guy friend who was not my father, brother, or lover even. I felt guilty for being a woman, and I felt guilty because that’s what had been instilled in me – to feel the guilt of victimization as a woman.

When we went to the patrolling police car, we were left with a warning to go back home as soon as possible, and a lofty assurance that they’d look into it. But the best response was yet to come, from the doctor I had to go see the next day, so badly was my back hurting. She asked what happened, and I told her, and she, with an extremely annoyed expression, told me that this was the problem with the girls of my generation, we thought we could do anything that men did. Indeed!

I kept questioning why they attacked me, kept on going back to that night, analyzing every little thing, trying to figure out the ‘fault on my part’. Because since childhood that’s what this society had been trying to teach me, that I must have done something else why would it happen with me? It took me a long while to realize that they probably needed to prove their “manhood” to themselves, and how else to do it but by showing their superiority over women.

And ever since that realization dawned in, I haven’t left any opportunity to go out at night, to a club with my girlfriends, to a movie with my boyfriend, or on a random walk after dinner with my flatmate. Call me reckless, call me stupid, but you cannot call me a coward. And not in a thousand years will I give in to the way society wants me to be – docile, scared, and shaken to the core!

The world goes on, stupid and brutal, but I do not. Can’t you see? I do not. ― Jennifer Donnelly, Revolution.

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