![]() ![]() Never mind that coming out simply describes a disclosure of one's true self. ![]() Because I had the audacity to borrow the terminology of "coming out" from the discourses of homosexuality. I told my friends about the man whose aggressive tweet got several RTs for calling me a bimbo. I told them how someone on Twitter had called me a "Rich Bitch", because how else would anyone dare to express their individuality, unless they were rich? Mum reminded me how we grew up anything but, and how I used the dreaded "quota" not to secure an admission at the undergraduate college I attended, but for a scholarship of Rs 3,000, to pay the annual fees. Along with the realization that my history was not so tainted, after all. This was the first time I sensed pride in it. I had heard this story several times while growing up. And kept a moustache and wore a Jodhpuri suit too. And a few blocks later, he got back on and rode on it anyway. Because then, if you were Dalit, you couldn't ride on one. She and my Dad remembered how my great-grandfather was forced to step down from a bicycle he was riding at Badi Chopar in Jaipur in the '50s. It was her first release from the shame of being Dalit. ![]() I finally spoke to my mum in Ajmer, and told her about the overwhelming reaction I have received for sharing my blog earlier this week, titled Today, I'm coming out as Dalit. ![]()
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