This article in the Sunday Guardian explores the dearth of literature about rape, from a personal perspective. Worth reading.
Now the world seems increasingly connected only by violence and its similarities of genre. There is little to distinguish the news on television and newspapers from our daily conversation. A few days ago, a close friend sounded exactly like a television news anchor when he informed me about the rape of a six-year-old girl inside a school building in Siliguri. I only remember the silence that followed. “You must write something about it,” he prodded, like many do when they discover that you “write”.
After I got back home, I watched Eleonore Pourriat’s short film, Oppressed Majority (Majorité Opprimée). In the world of this film, a man is sexually abused, taunted, ragged by women, a gendered mirror opposite of what a woman has to face every day. By turning the pocket of the everyday sexualised discourse inside out, the film shows the continuous sexual harassment a woman is subjected to. I sent the link to my student adding a note, a reaction to the news of the girl from Class Two raped by two men in her school. “See how there are no girls anymore? Everyone is a woman,” I wrote.
Her reply was prompt: “The last few days, I read many ‘rape poems’. Ma’am, there is a Literature of Rape. But there is no Poetry of Rape. There can never be. Because there is no poetry in rape.”
Sumana Roy, Free Verse, The Sunday Guardian, February 2014