The pain that I speak about is about being alone, while speaking on any women oriented subject. Women’s groups go silent if a controversial issue is raised. Some come forward to say that they are in the group for relaxation and entertainment, and horrible things do not happen to everybody. Why talk about it, or post disturbing stuff?
It is living in denial, but silence is a choice that women across the world have exercised. They cannot be denied that choice either, even if it harmed their own interest. The #MeToo movement felt like ejection from the cloud, and being thrown out on the other side.
It is a singularly unique experience, as I see the futility of speaking up. Words without action do not mean anything. Words are meant to inspire action. What have I been doing so far? Playing around with words and poem meters, seeking approval from self-proclaimed experts and hailing myself as creative? The only purpose that writing serves is to be an outlet, but I failed miserably, if I have not been able to influence or inspire a single person.
The next thought that strikes is – Do I have to pat my own ego with superlative ideas of being influential? Why can’t I live a humdrum life with my daily routine, and some ‘creative satisfaction’ on the side? It will lessen the pain, even if I die a nameless and obscure death?
I find myself on the ‘other side of the cloud’, probably in process of entering another one – the pain of obscurity.