boys (in India and elsewhere) grow up being told a whole set of lies about human sexuality in complete contrast with the silence we girls receive. about their need to masturbate in contrast with the taboo-ness regarding female masturbation, about their need for sex in contrast with the myth that women don't really enjoy sex but do it for the man.

so they as men are moulded by talk and treatment (and porn) to become (sometimes) unpleasant sexual partners. the holding her head in fellatio, hell even in intercourse, the objectifying of the breasts as having their own identity separate from the person (or the butt for that matter). I've always pointed it out when it happens to make him stop doing it cos of how inanimate it makes me feel. and it needs to be pointed out, every time every instance. 

even when we tell a street harasser that it's not ok, we somewhat correct the imbalance in conversation around sexuality. even when you kick away that leg from invading your personal space on a flight or bus. 

many years I wondered how such sexist parents brought up reasonably feminist sons like him and his brother. now (I'm a slow learner) I realise how much the sexism of the parents has percolated within them. 

the things the mom says, "Because she's a girl she must have told you everything.... she will come around ..."; and thinks and suggests, "having a kid will solve all problems". 

someday I will still probably write that book, now it will have to be about honesty and sexism and marriage and proximity to someone with mental illness (and how it sometimes feels contagious not by touch of course but by connectedness of minds and by the togetherness of dealing with it, the sharing of thoughts and the effort to obliterate myself so I can be less judgmental and less upset). 

just this morning he told me about this other blog and in comparison I felt like a coward because even in my mostly anonymous state here I haven't had the courage to confess and tell; therefore this today.