“To the tutor who groped at my breasts, age 12: I wish I’d gotten you thrown out of the house then and there. I will teach my sons and daughters to NOT keep quiet when sleazebags like you touch them, ever.

To the distant cousin of my father who had done things to me I’ve blocked in my memory, and who cheekily invited us to ‘stay over’ when my dad decided to invite his family to my wedding, age 5 or 6, and then age 25: Don’t you EVER take the liberty of saying that to someone you’ve abused again. Ever. I spit on this society that taught me, not you, to feel shame for your actions.

To the boy who forced his penis on me, age 6: You said sorry. It doesn’t make the trauma any easier to bear. It doesn’t change the fact that I still feel violated by it. That’s me, and I’ve had to deal with at least 2 decades of feeling this way.

To the two men who cupped my vulva while I was getting into a bus, age 14, to the men who followed me on a bike in Palakkad, age 23: Because I was never able to see your faces or meet your eyes, I wind up seeing you in the faces of every man I meet for the first time. You will never know how that feels, and that alone will make you do this more and more, to more and more women.”

“You and I both know it wasnt the crowded bus that braked suddenly. A push can be accidental, a grope cant. The office going crowd would have blamed me for making an issue out of nothing. You know it wasnt nothing, I know it wasnt nothing. The next time, I will shout. ”