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Unlearning shame - How feminism liberated me

 When I was 16, I remember standing awkwardly near my bench, waiting for a classmate seated on it to leave, so I could take my pad out. I remember standing there, too shy to ask him to move, too shy to take out the conspicuously covered package, helpless and resigned to an afternoon of a full to capacity pad. Two years later, at eighteen, I remember walking from a nearby kirana shop to my hostel with an uncovered packet of Stayfree in my hand, swinging along in my hand, in tune to my steps. In two years, all that changed was my exposure to politics of being - in mostly passive ways. By then, I had become a politically aware teen, with knowledge of feminism and intersectionality.  Brought up in a typical middle class Indian household, I was taught to be conscious of shame. Conforming to society accepted standards was a prerequisite to a peaceful life - I had to be mindful of others' thoughts and actions and make sure that my actions and personality gave them no scope to criticise or

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