Hear Me by Ruchikaa Bhuyan

IHRAF Youth Writer

Ruchika is a 17-year-old student from Mumbai, India. A zealous human rights activist, she employs writing to advocate for issues she's passionate about, be it LGBTQ+ rights, gender rights, or racial equality. She has been recognised nationally for her debut novel, 'Until It Rains Again,' a bildungsroman tale narrated from the voice of a closeted bisexual teenager, relating her emotional turmoil and development as she arrives at the cusp of adulthood. Besides writing, she advocates for human rights through self-created nonprofit initiatives of 'Project Aafiyat' and 'Girl Up OurStory,' working for the empowerment of underprivileged women all over India.

Author Foreword:

This poem births from the acute, helpless infuriation I experienced after hearing about the Roe v. Wade overturning. As a strong feminist, it was heartbreaking to witness the deteriorating state of women's rights in an era where we're supposed to be heading toward the elevation of human rights. Consequently, this piece is a collection of emotions I underwent, expressing my perspective on the cause of abortion rights. It also aims to bring to light a suppressed voice and draw attention to deplorable injustices imposed by institutions in power. 

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so, they say  —

if someone breaks into your home 

you can call the cops and have a say over what’s your own 

but if someone breaks into my home 

and thieves me of the life between my thighs 

I am silenced? 

and when I call upon the 

system in place to support the people

I am robbed of my free will? 

Hear me —

if you want to save lives 

then let them be borne out of love 

and not compulsion. 

your chant of human rights is meaningless 

if you establish shackles and name them 

‘rights’ 

coerce a burden on bodies unknown to you 

and call it ‘love’. 

Hear me —

my mother loves me beyond measure. 

she fights every day for my rights

in spite of her own. 

but if I were born out of compulsion 

forced on her, unwanted, 

a product of sacrificial surrender 

to manacles you confuse with morals 

my mother would love me unconditionally still, 

but I wouldn’t ever be able to love myself

knowing her rights and autonomy

were robbed.

Hear me —

in saving one life you are ruining 

two. 

so, they say —

to tone it down. 

why?
after all, we are generations apart, 

and I’ll scream as loudly as I must 

till my words reach you in the past.