I am a manifestation of moral policing and still faces harassment

You will never find me dressed "inappropriate". My shortest races reach my knees, my jeans do not have slits on them, my neckline is not deeper than six inches, they are not sleeveless sweaters, nor any top revealing my navel, no skirts, shorts and obviously they did not wear small dresses. I do not have objects of "male gaze-inviting" in my wardrobe, and yet I like the man. I get into my hands, I accused, and sometimes even the people brush goes very closely to the subway.

What will moral police say about this? Do I dress up how Indian society wants to dress up then why are they harassing me like that? Women have been condemned to bear the burden of integrity and dignity not only on their families but on society on their shoulders. Their bodies are made in temples that must be clean (read: virgin). A man can vigorously violate this temple, but a woman can not take control of her body as she chooses. Sexy bathrobes invite rape, sarees and costumes call rishtas– but that could not be more than the truth.


Rape is the fourth most common crime against women in India. Last year's data from the Delhi police showed a grim increase in the number of reported rapes, while convictions in the same period declined. Data comparing the reported cases of rape between January and May in 2017 and 2018 alone show an increase from 757 to 780.


These numbers mean nothing, because even with one single rape it will scare me enough to add an extra layer of clothing when I go out after 6 pm. I forbid this morning when I saw an alien hook under the streets of South Delhi with ghettos and a sports bra. I looked around all the men without looking, staring at her, not moving their eyes, even when it was lacking in sight, hoping to catch another look. I felt like shouting at the top of my voice and asking everyone to employ their own business, but I could not. I just felt frightened about her safety. I'm afraid for myself in a suit with one dupatta and I feared for her in a sports bra.

What I gathered from this incident was that our clothes did not matter, our skin did not matter, the male look just wanted to know that I was a woman – an object for opinions and a treat for their hungry eyes. These men do not care if we wear clothes or not, just want to be a woman or the idea of ​​what women think they should be – the species that are traditionally considered undecided, weak and submissive. Rather than learning a lesson or two with consensus, the male-dominated society will teach us what to wear and how to wear it. This story is not about how I chose to finally wear a red lip in a subway or skirts while traveling in a car. I continue to dress up how Indian society wants to wear with little hope to change in the future.