Being a feminist and holding the flag for the longest time, I personally feel that I as a feminist have gone through an evolutionary process. When I say this, I would like to firstly state that these instances may or may not resonate with other feminist identifying personnels and I would like to acknowledge that I am aware of my privileges and power bestowed upon me by the patriarchal society of Nepal.
Saying this, my journey started at the earliest age of five. A young girl child of the second wife was always discriminated against by her grandparents, was always dismissed while her grandparents gave away candies and money (to buy candies). A particular memory still lingers in my mind, where my grandmother gave Rs.1000 to my elder and younger brother, and she gave me twenty Rs.10 notes. She further exclaimed, “timi lai jhan dherai hai”(more money for you), but since I was good with numbers I calculated and confronted her saying it was just Rs.200 and why not Rs.1000? I vividly remember her face raging with anger, and she shouted to me saying“tah badi hunchas?, kti manche lai jati decha tesmai khusi hunu parcha”(you speak a lot, women should be happy with whatever they are given). I remember crying and running to find my mother. When I told her what had happened, she told me, “This is what strong and educated women must overcome and not cry, OK?” Just like that, I felt strong and smiled through my toothless gums. This particular incident has made me look at the world differently from a very young age, a world full of discrimination against me (a girl).
From a very young age, I was competing at a national level swimming. For me, it was everything I wanted to do, but with it came derogatory statements and fat shaming. Every day was a struggle for me in my family, when there was a gathering, I was always questioned about my dark skin and my weight, even as a kid. I remember my family member’s statement “esto kaali chas, kosle talai bihe garcha?” (You are so dark, who will marry you?) or “swimming garera ni yeti moto cha, swim garda dubdenas ni?” (Even after swimming so much, you are so fat, you don’t drown while swimming?). Never once did they celebrate my wins or my achievements, they would straight puncture my heart by raising such questions or statements. All I could think was Why? Why are my brother’s medals and achievements celebrated while I am questioned? Why am I not celebrated like others? Aren’t my achievements anything? Why does my looks matter? But guess what, for a woman, they made me perceive that looks only matter, and if they do not look good, your achievements do not matter. That made me angry, I do not know whom I was angry at but I was angry at something or someone.
Now, my angry young adolescent phase was ignited. I started wearing dark clothes, and in every family gathering, I started to fend for myself by answering back and fighting with whoever cross-questioned me. I was furious, but I did not answer their questions. I would shout back, snap at them, or not attend these gatherings. I am grateful for my mother who never stopped feeling what I felt because she knew how it feels to be rejected by society for being vocal, courageous, and mostly strong. Every now and then in such gatherings, my mother would share my achievements knowing that they would not be acknowledged. During one such instance, I remember being furious with my mother for sharing my achievements with the family members. I told her “Why do you share?, They do not care. All they care about is my appearance, my skin, and my weight. They don’t care! I came first in class, I came second in swimming, I won a trophy in art or debate.” She then said “One day they will acknowledge you, they will acknowledge your success and achievements. Think of this as a warm-up session, I am warming up family members.” I did not understand her then, cause I was being questioned left and right, the rate of questions pouring in increased further and pushed me to become bitter and aggressive. But today, while I am writing this, I understand her, and thank her for her perseverance. It was not for others’ acknowledgement, but my acceptance of who I am. To accept that I am different, I see the world differently and furthermore, nobody needs to validate my feelings because they are valid.
Saying this, my deepest fear came to life. I lost my mother at the age of 15. She had cancer for more than 5 years, and finally the most dreaded day came to life. I was torn apart. I thought the world came to a halt, the air was thinner than usual and that the ground below was taken away from me. I knew my mother was sick, but she never disclosed to us what was happening to her because all three of us siblings were in school and lived in the school hostel. It was a bright sunny day, as I had just finished my last exam for 11th grade and was looking forward to the school trip with my friends. Right after my exam, one of my teachers called me and told my younger brother and me to pack our bags and that there was a very important puja at home and we had to go home immediately. I knew it then, as my heart sank and my brother held my hand and asked me if everything was okay. I seriously did not know what to say to him, cause we knew what had happened and why we were going home. Once we landed, we went directly to the hospital, where we saw our mother for the last time. We shared a brief moment with our mother, and the next morning we received the news that our mother had departed. When we reached the hospital, I could see everyone looking at us differently, while my father was lying on the floor crying ,I had to pull myself up and tell him, “We are there, this is not the end of our life.” Even in her departure, she taught me to live life and be strong.
With this, I entered my college life, a 17-year-old me in college still trying to cope with my mother’s departure and every other change that is taking place around me. While I was coping and scraping through my feelings, I got into drinking and smoking. All I wanted to do was drown in my sorrows, cause I did not want anyone to show sympathy, nor did I want to face the reality, that is a life without my mother. So I was on a rampage to destroy everything around me and in me. But luckily, I was blessed with amazing friends, soul sisters who helped me keep my head above the water, and I did. I started to listen to my heart, the feelings, and thoughts. I sought help from my professors, and I again started living life, slowly began to understand my grieving period. The love and support I was showered with helped me accept my reality and move on. I started to engage in community work, college activities, and books. I loved to read (and still do), I thought about what is important to me, what I love the most, what intrigues me. Then I stumbled on genres of “misogyny” books, I read “Princess”, “I am Malala”, “The Kite Runner”, “The Thousand Splendid Suns”, “Laja” amongst others. These reads fed my soul, answered many questions and resonated with my childhood memories. After a long time, I felt alive!
After going on adventures and indulging in such amazing reads, I started to explore myself in the world of gender, especially in the context of Gender! I began to take my own experiences and explore, attending trainings, workshops and networking sessions. I met such amazing people, who invigorated me in ways that made me want to take a leap of faith. And I did!
After being discriminated against for my weight, color, my voice, my attitude, and my strength, today I can say I have evolved as a feminist. My journey started with crying, crying for everything cause I felt like I was moving against gravity, but now I know they were threatened by my capacity to question the long-standing patriarchal norms. They felt that I was strong and I was vocal, so they needed to pluck my wings, but thanks to my mother, I worked hard and I grew my tenacity to face patriarchy. I was angry because I did not know, I did not think that there were people all over the world who had to fight like me. Today, after gaining knowledge and skills, I am able to have a proper discussion without raising my voice. Being a feminist is complex; carrying the flag and wearing it across your chest is the hardest because everyone has a different perception of “how a feminist should be.” But now I am convinced, everyone has to go through their own experience of crying, howling, and coping to become a feminist. Your experience supports you to evolve to become a feminist. Hence, I would like to conclude by saying that I have evolved as a feminist and am proud to be a flag bearer of it.
