Oops! I did it again! I cried for a movie which no one else would probably have cried for, that too at the most inappropriate scene of the movie. Previously, I have known to weep for the last scene of the Sixth Sense, a Tamil movie in which an inconsequential character died, romantic endings(everyone does that, which I have christened ‘I want that’ tears), and a scene in the 9th episode of the 1st season of The Game Of Thrones(I hate spoilers, so I don’t spoil it for anyone else either) for which I was sobbing and wailing and would have made an excellent Youtube video.
Circling back, this time it was for Wonder Woman! (You didn’t expect that, did you?). Since I have a small baby, I have been watching it in small parts on Amazon Prime and yet to finish it!
Here, is the scene.
If you don’t have the time to see the clip, here is the low down. The lead actress a.k.a Wonder Woman a.k.a Diana, Princess of the Amazons, jumps over the enemy barricade and glides towards the enemy front line, one sword blazing. She looks radiant, majestic, graceful and strong. She deflects bullets left and right and continues to carve her path across the battlefield with a show of great skill and strength.
And, there I was bubbling like a baby! Why? Maybe, it was the fact that growing up I had no female superheroes to look up to. I had my barbies, which I was quite happy with. While my brother and I played with G.I.Joes, I do not recall there being any “recallable” women among them. All of the famous Marvel movies, which I have seen until now did not have any discernable women I really loved and looked up to. If I had to be one of the X-Men, I would probably be Jean Grey(Phoenix), who isn’t actually ‘Hero’ material. The bottom line is, I don’t associate the term ‘Superhero’ with a woman. Until now.
But maybe, it was more because of the contrast between Wonder Woman and me, which I felt with a forcefulness of a storm descending on my senses. Here I was, since I was a teenager, not able to walk on a street carefree, and there she was traversing a battlefield with ease. Here I was, getting my butt whacked by a helmet-wearing bike driver, while I walked 500 meters from an auto to my gates. Here I was, not able to wear even a Salwar with a Dupatta and feel safe in a public bus. Here I was, wishing we could tint my car windows(even after I got my own vehicle), so that I could avoid the glare of the nearest lecher looking in. And, I don’t know when I will ever be in this lifetime. I know women who are way older than me, telling me of incidents when they have been ‘hit’ upon. Still.
Do we as women need to become physically stronger? Is that the only way to be safe? Do we need to train like amazons and our little girls in different forms of martial arts since the time they are born? (since even 3-yr olds are raped these days). Will more awareness, writing about it, shouting from the rooftops make even an iota of difference? Will technology be the answer: should we fit a small camera to every child’s collar or will something more sophisticated emerge?
I have more questions than answers. I leave them to you to ponder upon.
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