Relax! It's a Human Right

From the long list of Human Rights there's one which always caught my attention. It's the right to rest from work and relax. Article 24 of the Universal Declaration probably says it a bit more formally, but the meaning does not change. As humans beings we have the right to leisure. 

Two other rights in the declaration make it clear that human rights are enjoyed by humans irrespective of their gender, race, caste, nationality, and all the other meaningless social classifications. It also says that these rights cannot be taken away from us. 

Keeping all this mind, it's safe to say that stress is actually a violation of Human Rights. Not taking a break and working like the world is coming to an end is an international level offence. 

Now that you know this, put-up the list of Human Rights in your work area for everyone to see. If you are feeling particularly inspired, highlight the right to rest and relax. That way more people will know their Human Rights and their right to take a break.  

For whoever is making you work without rest does not probably realise the implications of their act. An International Declaration has given you the right. The United Nations is protecting this right. Yet we toil endlessly. 

When we actually exercise this right, we come-up with multiple excuses to justify it. Some of us work even when we are on vacation. We either feel guilty about taking a break or worse made to feel guilty about taking a break. 

Well, we shouldn't because it's a basic human right listed in a Declaration ratified by the world. Next time someone tries to guilt-trip you into cancelling your leave, tell them that they are violating an international right. If they don't get it, show them the Universal Declaration of Human Rights pinned-up on your desk. 

Dancing, For This and a Billion More Risings

“Good girls don’t dance in the middle of a road,” a wise elderly relative told me as I was pulled away from the tiny circle in which my cousins and I were dancing.

It was my brother’s wedding procession, called baraat. Bands, that specialise in music for this kind of a procession, were playing one peppy Bollywood favourite after another. I was the only girl dancing with the boys. My sister and other female cousins were conscious and a little concerned about their sarees. As for me, I had made my mother put extra pins in my saree so that I could dance freely.

The freedom was short lived. I had to fall in line with my sisters, bear disapproving looks from the elders and watch the boys have all the fun.

(Image via http://www.womenlobby.org)

My wise elderly relative would have had a shock of his life if he had been here yesterday (February 14, 2013). Right in the center of Bangalore city, where dancing is banned,  women were dancing, celebrating, rejoicing. They were rising, with a billion others all over the world, for a fearless future. There’s no way anyone was going  to pull me out this time.

Some of us there knew each other, some of us will never know each other. But we danced together. Thrusting, pouting, winking, encouraging, coordinating with each other, liberating each other.

There were men too. Some were rising and some were just curious bystanders. My friend came up with the brilliant idea of distributing pamphlets to the curious bystanders. We hope atleast some of them read why so many men and women were dancing, painting and singing, in this grand carnival against gender violence.

It was an inspiring moment. Irrespective of gender, people were out in the streets against rape, domestic violence, sexual harassment, gender insensitivity, female infanticide and other such social evils.

The fearlessness was contagious. So was the feeling of liberation and empowerment. Each one of us were so different, yet we were there because we’ve all been ill-treated, disrespected or violated because some people think that’s the treatment a woman asks for every time she defies the boundaries imposed on her.

Why was I there?

When activism is your job, words like rising and people and movement start becoming redundant. Yet they are your dream. To see billions of people rising for one cause, starting a movement? Oh yes!

Not participating in one of  these weighs heavily on your conscious. If you have been calling yourself a feminist even before you understood what it meant, then not attending is not an option.

I enjoy certain privileges today because women fought for equality in the late 18 century. My pay is the same as my male colleagues. No one can stop me from casting a vote, or expressing an opinion on the basis of my gender. I live an independent life on my terms and take most of my decisions on my own.

Yet, society does not miss an opportunity to oppress me. I’ve lost count of the number of times I have been touched or seen inappropriately. I have faced abuse. I’ve been judged for not following rules a woman should follow. And this is the story of so many women all over the world.

I don’t have children yet, but I have two adorable nieces and I want to give them the privilege of being fearless. I don’t want them to feel the need to carry a pepper spray or a weapon with them. They should not restrict their dreams because of a gender stereotype. They should have more choices than I have, more freedom than I have. That’s why I was rising.

I was rising for my mother and grandmother, for my nieces, my sister, for cousins and friends, women and girls I know and I don’t know. I was rising so that men and social systems that ill-treat women know that they are in minority. I was rising so that, next time a young girl wants to dance her heart out in the middle of a road, she can do so without being told it’s inappropriate.  

I will continue to rise till stigma that haunts women across the globe is wiped out. I will rise till the choice, opinion and rights of every woman has the strength of a billion. And I know, each time I rise I will have a billion rising with me.