Slut shaming looks like
My freshmen year of college,
When you decided that you disliked me.
In all honesty, I am used to being disliked.
But this was different.
The only reason this narrative exists is because you didn’t know me.
You didn’t dislike me for
Something I did to you — or something that I said.
You disliked me for who I was — or who you thought I was.
And who you thought I was, was a sexually active 18-year-old Indian girl
Who was shameless enough to talk about it.
Who owned her sex life, like she did everything else that belonged to her.
My existence was in inconvenience that dug holes
in your stratosphere of patriarchy.
This is how you decided to duct tape your atmosphere –
Step one, block me on Facebook.
Step two, make others believe that I am who you say I am.
Step three, stop going to parties you think I would be at,
Making our mutual friends choose between the two.
You were doing me a favor, really.
You were helping me pick my team — my people. Thanks.
Plot twist —
You unblocked me a month ago,
And sent me a fresh friend request.
No apology, no explanation.
I didn’t notice you were gone until you came back.
But you came back.
Four years of people telling me how much you hate me,
Four years of me asking why,
Four years of shoulder shrugging.
This story doesn’t have an ending.
Much like slut-shaming.
This is my hello
And this is my goodbye,
You know who you are,
Thanks for stopping by.