Blood was always an attribute of warriors.A mark of valour,on the armour of a knight.A scar of respect,on a soldier.A wound of wonder,on a veteran.But,why,oh why,a mark of shame,on the body of a woman ?
Yes,we bleed.All of us do.But while you cry and howl at the simple sight of blood,we go about with our lives,every month,without any semblance of sympathy.And you call that weakness?you call that unclean.
Menstruation,such an integral part of womanhood,is hidden and hushed away,like sanitary napkins,behind black veils.Society cant get past the fact that this blood is as natural as that in their veins.The flow of her vagina becomes everybody’s disturbance,but herself.Their cramps render them uncomfortable,but not more than your snide remarks and shifty glances,your pointed fingers and hushed laughter at the little stains of red at her clothes .I guess patriarchy has really good eyesight and really bad morals.
Her hormonal changes causes disruption to her peace,but not as much as your little jokes,”why are you being cranky,is it that time of the month again?”.Yes it’s that time of the month for her.The time of the month she bears unbearable pain,tolerates intolerable judgement,and works as if all is normal,just to be the butt of your great indian humour.Haha,funny.
Your faith in her sanctity falters every other fortnight,but not hers,in her creator.Even as you stop her from visiting his abode ,you stop her from fasting for him.I don’t believe the One who made her bleed,can be afraid of little drops of blood from her body.You have spilled a river full of blood in his name already.
But,a warrior doesn’t abandon the battlefield at the sight of blood.A warrior battles.Battles her tags of impurity,her expectations of normalcy,her experiences of pure horror,until she reaches a limit.A limit where she can no longer keep herself striking with such brute force,that will destroy your notions,your systems.
BEWARE when she strikes with a fury worthy of her strength.