You are the problem.

I walked on the road,

the woman in the pink sari, 

looked at me 

with disgust in her eyes. 

The nineteen year old boy, 

sneered at me. 

The man, walking beside his

little daughter,

stared at me.

They made me realize my mistake. 

My grave 'mistake'.

My 'mistake', 

because of which I,

'deserved'
such a reaction. 

The postman riding his cycle,

whistled at me. 

The middle aged security guard, 

pointed at me, 

and smirked. 

That smirk, 

shook my insides,

made me feel

so weak,

so vulnerable,

so wrong.

My 'mistake' seemed

even more serious, now. 

All I had done,

was wear a pair of shorts. 

All I had done, 

was believe that 

I am 'allowed'

to dress as I please. 

I'm a seventeen year old girl.

If you're sexualizing my body to an extent,

that I cannot exercise basic human rights I deserve, 

YOU ARE THE PROBLEM.