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 shame. 

This aspiration is common and incredibly harmful, and for obvious reasons. Anything liberating, by extension, daring, had to raise a few eyebrows, and as a result, a mental gymnastics of "why would a girl sport a boy cut!" or "what if somebody saw my stained skirt!?" would ensue after a strictly personal decision or an accident.

Engagng with feminist content helped me see that these questions were normal and common. It helped me realise that 'boy-cut' was a supremely comfortable hairstyle that would totally suit me and that accidental period stains are less of a worry than the inherent prejudice while discussing periods. It helped me see that I was being shamed and I was the one shaming me. It helped me realise that all my extrapolations on the length of my hair or a period stain, was all a one person play, with me being hero and anti-hero.

Constant and continued exposure and engagement with feminist theories and spirit, in the form of close friends and family, helped me see my biology as a tool to express myself as I desire. My body, with all its natural attributes like body hair or breasts and bloated stomach, was fine and working as it is. A lot of body policing women endure, both from themselves and society, is, in fact, a result of an impractical conditioning to present oneself as perfect.

This realisation also helps me accept the fact my psychological state of being is dependent on my uterine cycle. Hard mood swings, feelings of inadequacy, constant fear of underperformance, all become indicators of an impending period.

Feminism, an ideology that ascribes humanity to each, also indicates that as humans, we should make room for human shortfalls too. 

It helped me empathise, reflect and retrace.

It helped me realise that try as I might, I cannot be the best person for everybody. It opened my eyes to the fact that I had to be the best person for and to myself in order to try and be that somebody to others. 

It helped me sport a smile when people ask me "why would I cut my hair short when other women have no qualms growing theirs out?"

It prevents the falters when I reply that "it was me that short hair was inconvenient for, why would I expect every other woman to shed their long hair!"

I wouldn't say that feminism is the 'be-all' of my still in progress journey of self acceptance, but surely, it has revealed itself as the firm bedrock. It is indeed what prompted me to laugh a bit louder, talk a bit firmer, opine a bit stronger and live a bit fuller.

(Originally written for the GirlUp*GirlForGirl blog.)