From What Capacity Do I Write?

When we were running the Unapologetic campaign around school, we went around asking the staff to contribute blogs for the initiative. One teacher’s question that day stirred something deep within me.

“From what capacity?” she asked.

We paused for a moment, unsure what she meant. She smiled and clarified, “From what capacity do you want me to write the blog? As a wife? A mother? A daughter? A Head of Department? A teacher?”

We looked at her and replied, “From the capacity of being a woman, ma’am.” She laughed, it was a very sweet, bubbly laughter indeed and then she said, “Oh! All of it then.” That moment stayed with me.

When I walked back to class, her words lingered. I began to wonder “from what capacity do I write? As a law student? An entrepreneur? A law intern? The president of this club? Or maybe, like she said, as a daughter, a sister, or a granddaughter?”

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized these roles are never fixed. They flow into one another. They’re dynamic, constantly evolving, and yet, they coexist in the most intricate, beautiful way. And perhaps that’s what it means to be a woman is to to live through all these capacities all at the same time.

Yet the irony remains.

In a world that often prides itself on “giving women freedom” basically the freedom of expression, the freedom to choose a career, and the freedom to make reproductive decisions which are already entrusted upon all citizen by the constitution of India, these rights are often treated as privileges that women must prove themselves worthy of. Society expects women to be exceptional at exercising these so-called freedoms while also excelling in the roles that have been pre-assigned to them.

“Be ambitious, but never forget your home. Be expressive, but not too loud. Be free, but always responsible.”

If a woman falters in the role that society has assigned her, the caretaker, the nurturer, in simple terms the “good woman”, those freedoms are often the first to be questioned, withdrawn, or weaponised against her.

There is always the familiar rebuttal: “Men juggle multiple roles too.” But what do we take away from a man when he is a bad husband? What do we take away from a man when he is a bad employee? The answer often revolves within the role and never goes out of it. His rights remain untouched. His choices are still respected. His individuality is still his own.

But for women, these things are conditional.

So conditional that there is always a fear. The fear that they might take away my phone. The fear that they might stop me from going to school. The fear that they might stop me from working. The fear that they might never let me out of the house. The fear that they might get me married off. These thoughts ring in our minds whenever there is even a tiny falter. This I believe is the reason there are very few reports of abuse, harassment, or bullying from women who were brought up in such situations.

The fear of my freedom being taken away is so high that I tolerate abuse just to retain my human rights. The fear of my freedom being taken away is so high that I tolerate random hands rummaging through my body on a bus that was made free for my ease.

The fear of my freedom being taken away is so high that I smile politely at unsolicited comments because being “rude” would make me the problem. The fear of my freedom being taken away is so high that I walk faster at night, keys between my fingers, pretending to be brave. This wouldn’t have happened if I had started early. This wouldn’t have happened if there was no traffic, I tell myself, trying to ignore the voices that whisper, “How much?”

Because when I was granted freedom on August 15, 1947, I was told it would be taken away the minute something slightly went wrong.

But today, I no longer wish to guard my freedom with fear. I want to live it, breathe it, and let it spill beyond the boundaries they built for me. I want to speak even when my voice trembles. I want to choose without seeking permission and exist without apology. Being a woman was never meant to be about endurance; it was meant to be about existence, loud, flawed, graceful, and whole. The Unapologetic campaign was never about defiance for the sake of rebellion. It was about remembering that we were never meant to ask for space but to take it. I write this not from one capacity but from all of them, as a student, an entrepreneur, a daughter, a sister, and a woman. I am not defined by the freedoms I was given but by the courage with which I choose to keep them.

I will definitely falter. I will fall, miss deadlines, forget tasks, fall sick, and stumble through the chaos of becoming. Yet, I will rise, learn, and return stronger each time, because my worth is not bound by perfection but by persistence. Nothing shall ever take away my freedom, for it was never theirs to give. My freedom was never offered. It has always been mine.

Written By Rasheeqa Sheriff