Monday 19 May 2014

The Story Of Me

As some of you may or may not have noticed, my blog isn't the most active. Every now and then, I read a newspaper article, or watch a show, or come across individuals that strike a chord in my- not in a good way, but in a way that angers me.

Every now and then I feel like the world is filled with hopelessness and mindless rage and war.

Its a horrible feeling to have, and I've found that putting that feeling of hopelessness, hurt and confusion into words helps me a lot.

However, I've been thinking about this for a while, and I've realised that maybe I've been going about this the wrong way.

My blog is- so far- only about things that make me angry, things that make me feel like the shittiest person on earth. Its not about unheard voices- its about mine.

That's when I realised that this blog may contain things that people out there relate to, but before it is another person's voice, it is mine.

I am the one who is trying to tell people that I feel like this is wrong. Your thoughtless words hurt me, your indiscriminate judgement makes no sense to me.

Perhaps, one of the easiest things to do when you write a blog about topics like the ones I've spoken about is that you can easily get lost. You can lose yourself in this utterly wrong and baseless idea that you are giving someone else a voice.

Never, ever think that.

Everyone has a voice. They may not have been able to raise it yet, they may not have the courage to shout, but it is there.

Never ever think that you can speak  "for the people of India" or "the women on the world", because they have their own voice.

Don't think that, just because you are among the lucky 1% of the world who has it relatively easy that you can "emancipate" everyone else.

You're not helping anyone, you're merely making them more disabled than they were before. In that one act of misguided help and perhaps compassion for your fellow beings, you may just be accidentally releasing a discrimination you never realised you had.

There are no voiceless people.

There are only those who are oppressed, whose voices are crushed and muffled.

But never, ever assume that your voice can be that of everyone else.

So, I just wanted to say this. This blog isn't out here to tell everyone what they should be feeling, what they should be thinking, what they should be doing.

Its about what my feelings are, as I swim through the murky waters of life.

Its not about you.

Its about me.

Its about how I feel rage when someone insults people for being different- not because I think the proclaimed underdog needs the help of an almost 20 year old college student who really might do more damage that help, but because everyone is different.

Its about how I feel pain when I realise that the people around me, the people who I call my friends, may not respect me the way I want them to. Without meaning to, they may accidentally objectify me in a manner that hurts me much deeper that anything they could ever do.

This blog is not about the world.

Its about the world of a little girl with ridiculous notions of justice and respect, who clings to her morals and views like they are her lifeline.

This is not the story of a billion people across the world. No one could ever encompass such a monumental story.

This is the story of a girl who just wants to understand why we are so intent on being sad, when we could all very well be happy.