Failing Strong Women

           

          It is about the writers (author, whatever they think they are and whatever their readers think they are). It is also about the readers.

Two nights ago I was forwarded with a bunch of poems. All of them are very weepy. The poet herself wept while reading. All of them about some women who never fought back but submitted to the aggression even before being succumbed to it!

Have you seen any animal do that? Isn’t that against our nature, as animals? Aren’t we, the women, the humane females, though political, but animals?

In this argument, it has come to my mind that we’re probably more political than being animals. Because we want us to be loved. We want us to be liked. Hence, we conform to what the people, the consumer, the patron like.

If our patron likes us to lie, we lie. If our consumers prefer to find glorified victimization, we do victimize our protagonists. We don’t let our protagonist win. Instead we prefer them to be bitten, beaten, eaten raw.

That’s why the poet wrote weepy poems about defeated women.

She claims by bringing those stories she is reflecting how misogynous the society is.

Really? 

Or, is it the other way round?

Misogyny loves to flaunt its overpowering charisma by enervating women. So through organized, syndicated, incorporated media they shove through our throat (I meant, mind) the stories of defeated enervated women. The nerve centers for sympathy get titillated by the depiction of pain of the bitten one. The media that promote such works get richer and sprinkle a part of its booty at the propagators (poets, writers, authors) of its misogynistic cause, though the propagators keep thinking that they fought against misogyny. (Ha ha), while they actually conformed to misogyny and fed misogyny their own existence. (ha ha).

My weapon to fight misogyny is to glorify the winning battles of the strong women. Life is not about win or loss until we lose it. Life is full of myriad battles against odds. Sometimes, some of those odds can be identified to be misogyny, but we, men and women, throughout our lives fight these battles.

So, I love strong women in real life and in fiction. I love them in their winning fights, in their win-win fights, in their no-win fights. There is no battle lost in life because war is never over unless life is over. No one loses a battle in life, unless they lose their life. 

If you are really against misogyny and really want it to lose, then start supporting strong women. The might of those women is not only in their muscles but also in their brain. Straight or crooked they play the game to outplay their opponents. Nice or rude, they become whatever they need to be whenever they need to be. Black, white or gray their choices do not matter. Only matters are the fact that they fought it to win. Only matters their choice to fight to overpower misogyny. Only matters that they do not yield to misogynistic charade of propagating misogyny in garb of resistance to misogyny.

So be tired of the victimization by misogyny and become a fan today of strong fighting women. If you would like to know more about them, then you have a choice here. Sixty Two authors brought to you more than a hundred fiction about strong women. All of them have been published independently, by the authors themselves, and also marketed by the authors themselves.

I am proud to be part of them. My Fatima from “Maternal Might” and Reema from “How to Steal a Pond” are fighting their battles alongside a hundred plus others. Will you support them?

If you are fighting against misogyny, then support these authors by reading their books and speaking about them, posting about their books on social media. Only then your fight against misogyny would become real. Otherwise, it would all remain fiction, created by misogynous components of society, of misogynistic pleasure, for benefiting misogynistic purposes.

Once more the choice is yours. You can choose your fight over misogyny  here. Or, you can lose it by submitting to it by going gung-ho in protest against it even before being succumbed.

It’s a question of life or death in the hands of misogyny. 

Last chance, here’s your weapon.

Uugh! Females Are Easily Enervated in Fiction

 I am ever dissatisfied with the plight of women in contemporary fictions. It seems a fashion now to depict women as victims, of a few terms. Those terms includes, but are not restricted to, misogyny, patriarchy, gender discrimination.

Thanks to the invention of seventy two genders, women now seem less discriminated.

However, fiction discriminates against them everyday. By their skin tone, by their body mass index, by density of their hair, by the shape of their teeth, by size of their eyes, by degree of deprivation they have suffered as per current media perception.

I am sore and sick of this derogatory view point.

In real world, I always find women protecting themselves and fighting their struggle by themselves successfully, every moment, everywhere.

Then, instead of telling the story of a winner, why do fictions project wimpy, wary women?

It is not that I heard only stories of strength in women and that has nothing happened to me ever.

My treads were tangled in the crowd. In railway junctions or suffocating buses, I have endured rampant groping since I was nine years old. Yet I never found that to be a general issue of misogyny. Instead, I took them as personal assaults by crooked individuals.

Since eighteen, I started retaliating against them. I wrenched the wrist with advancing palms to grope. I planted my fist on the back of the individual approaching to touch my breasts by shoulder or elbow. I bit people hard for attempted groping as I grabbed their sleazy palm crawling down from my shoulder. I returned every ogle with a straight undetterant gaze and made the ogler resign.

I prevented them from violating my body. I made them feel hurt instead of myself getting hurt.

Even then, I was sexually harassed, in my very early twenties and realized that the harassing person’s only intention was to subdue my fast learning abilities to cover up the person’s own inabilities. I resisted this manifestation of power. I suffered through hormonal imbalances and clinical depression. Yet I emerged stronger than ever by arranging myriad reprimands for the person and the person’s patronizing cohort.

Ever since, any cabal of incompetence, irrespective of gender, racial makeup and everything else constituting hubris of its individual members, whenever attempted to attack my person, I simply twisted them into an entanglement of nothing.

I, a female since birth, have been doing these all alone. Hence, my female characters are brainy, brawny, brave. 

Now tell me why would I take the fiction that portray women as vulnerables and victims?