Trigger Warning: This story contains themes of emotional abuse, harassment, and trauma, which may be distressing for some readers. Please read with caution.
In Her Words: Real Experiences on Safety Concerns Among South Asian Women
Ishika here. I want to share my story, not just as a way to vent but to shed light on the experiences many South Asian women like me face every day. My life has been a rollercoaster of rebellion, fear, and ultimately, resilience. I grew up in a strict household where my parents’ traditional values clashed with my extroverted personality. They worked for a big production house, and while they wanted me to succeed, their expectations often felt suffocating.
You see, I was never the type to follow the rules. Parties, sneaking out, and wearing what I wanted were just parts of who I was. I had my bua, my aunt, who was only five years older than me and completely understood my need to be free. She became my ally, my confidante, and the only one who truly saw me for who I was.
Things started to change when I met Arjun at a dating event. He was charming and seemed perfect, like the Bollywood hero I’d always fantasized about. We clicked, and before I knew it, we were together. For three years, I thought he was my prince charming, but I was wrong.
On our third anniversary, everything spiraled out of control. Arjun thought he could finally make a move on me, but I wasn’t ready. I told him no, but he couldn’t accept that. He grabbed my arm and pushed me out of the car. I was lucky it wasn’t moving; otherwise, I wouldn’t be here to tell my story.
After that night, I was scared, confused, and ashamed. I didn’t want to tell my parents about what happened, so I turned to my bua for help. She took me under her wing, promising not to tell anyone. But I felt trapped in my silence, and that’s when things took a darker turn.
A fake Instagram profile named Vinod began stalking me. At first, I thought it was just some random person. But Vinod wasn’t harmless; he sent me disgusting messages, intimate photos of half-naked girls morphed with my face, and even sent me explicit pictures of himself. I felt violated, like I had no safe space. I was terrified. I wanted to disappear. I contemplated ending my life because I couldn’t see a way out of the darkness.
On our last day of the internship, I walked into the office and was greeted by a nightmare. Inappropriate photos of me were plastered all over the walls. I felt my heart drop. My parents were there and saw everything. In their anger, they slapped me and locked me in my room, treating me like I was the guilty one. I felt utterly trapped—my voice stifled, my pain ignored.
But my bua wouldn’t let that be the end. She took action. With her background as a lawyer, she fought back. Arjun was arrested, and his internship was revoked. He was sentenced to jail, and the boy who once thought he was untouchable ended up working as a bouncer for his uncle—how ironic.
As for me, I left that production house behind. I turned my pain into purpose. I realized I wanted to help girls like me—girls who felt trapped, scared, and silenced. Today, I’m studying psychology, aiming to become a trauma psychologist. I want to be the voice for those who are too afraid to speak, to show them that healing is possible and that they are not alone.
My journey hasn’t been easy, but it’s taught me the importance of resilience. I want every girl reading this to know that you can reclaim your life. No matter how dark things seem, there’s always hope. Together, we can rise, heal, and empower each other.
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