Feminist Teacher Broken Down Pt. 01

(This is a 3 Part Series. I'm a new writer here. Your feedback will mean a lot to me. Until then, I hope you enjoy Part One)

After a regime change in the conservative country of Fuckistan, the Government reformed the entire educational curriculum of the country. It mandated Gender Studies and Feminism as courses to be taught in schools and colleges.

I was a fresh graduate and had some teaching experience as an assistant to my professor for a few years. Being just 27, and given the paucity of teachers, I was appointed by the Dean of the college to take on the responsibility of Gender Studies.

A little bit about myself before we move on. I'm Manisha, struggling to make my mark out there in a patriarchal society. Hence, I always dress up professionally and talk politely because I know "fucking patriarchy" is not the solution, but to internally work towards reform.

After a few weeks of me trying to teach this course in college, I realised that the students weren't really interested or had dull faces throughout. I tried my level best, but failed. My self esteem was at an all time low. One such fateful day, as I was wrapping up my books after a lecture, I noticed the presence of a tall man near my desk, just as students were leaving one by one.

"Yes?" I asked, without looking up from my seated position.

"Hello ma'am, I'm Rahim. I had a few doubts regarding the course. I thought I'd clear it up with you?" he asked in the most professional manner possible.

I was internally very excited to finally find a student who was atleast having some interest in the subject, far enough to have doubts and willing to clear it up." Ohh, is that so? Nice to meet you. You can ask away!" i said in an energetic fashion, as I got up from my desk clasping my books to my chest, covering up my cleavage in the lowcut white blouse I was wearing.

"I really liked your lecture with regards the gender norms and stereotypes. But don't you think women can't really redefine norms around femininity, given the overwhelming influence it has over women, within the definition of patriarchy?" he asked, as I smiled.

"Not really Rahim. I think femininity is for the woman to define. It shouldn't be left to men to decide who is woman enough? Don't you agree?" I tried to make it seem like he was obviously in the wrong, while I walked out of the class, as he followed me. I could almost feel him staring at my ass in the short black skirt I was wearing.

"Oh but, statistics show that women who act feminine with respect to patriarchy's definition, are more likely to be happier, given their desirability among men, and happy relationships. Masculine women, or those trying to escape these norms, aren't seen as desirable, ma'am," he continues, almost as if it's not a doubt anymore, but gospel truth.

"What do you mean, patriarchy's definition? If a woman wants to wear pants and go to work, she's still attractive, it doesn't affect her desirability," I respond as I walk into my office keeping the books on my desk.

He walks in the door of my office and closes it, as he looks at me. "Look at you ma'am. I'm pretty sure half of the college would find it hotter if you wore a dress to college or shorter skirts. Because that's how women should be like. More feminine, not trying to be masculine. Thats like escaping your femininity. Is that what feminism teaches us?" His question hit me like a brick.

It took me a while to process that. I realised I might be losing this argument here even though it felt so wrong. Looking at my distress, Rahim took a few steps in my direction, and stood in front of me, casually stroked my hair away from my face, and tucked it behind my ear. "Ma'am, this hair that you have, those womanly assets you have, they are what makes you a woman. You can't change that. That's why you're wearing that skirt today. You like wearing it."

I felt like I should take a firm stand. The line was getting blurry. "Rahim, please step away. This isn't the way to talk to your teacher. Your points are noted within the academic fold of the discussion though." i become too formal. "I wear the skirt because I like it. Not to be feminine, but because I prefer it over pants or other apparel." Although I try my best, but this doesn't hold up much logic in front of my own student.

"I'll take your leave then, ma'am. But trust me. You'll be happier if you stop pretending to be a man, and embrace your gender. There's nothing to run away from," he said and then opened the door and left.

Next day, I wore a yellow sundress to the college. It was almost backless, with a lot of leg. My 34-30-36 figure was accentuated well enough. I realised the entire class paid attention to my class. I was approached by students more and they took more interest in the curriculum. I was at my happiest.

That very evening as I was finishing up in my office, Rahim walked in, "Care for a chat, Manisha ma'am?"

Because he was too polite and genuinely engaged in academic discussions, I nodded and turned to thr bottom shelf of my cupboard, keeping back the books, which resulted in me bending over.

"That's a pretty hot dress. I'm sure you got a lot more attention than any other day at work," he said with a deep voice, almost assertive.

Still bent over, arranging the books, I responded, "Yeah, you were right about the desirability factor. But I think that's because most of the males are still wired into that patriarchal setup."

Out of nowhere, I felt a tight *SMACK* on my ass, which caused me jerk up in surprise, and drop my books down. "Sorry Professor, I think the old furniture that you sit in, in this college had a lot of dust. I was just trying to dust it off," he said, "But continue, ma'am. Your point is intriguing." His hand still remained on my lower back as he said those words.

I secretly liked his spank, and the way he paid attention to me. Being single for a long time and male validation was doing things to me that my feminist brain couldn't comprehend. I don't know why I couldn't stand up to him. There was something about his voice and demeanor which made me weak.

"Um, thank you... I guess.. So as I was saying, I think the reason for behavioral change in males was because they still sexualize women and that's what we need to change", I said, as I got up from my position, and turned around. He withdrew his hand and stepped away. I could still feel the pain from his widespread, full palm, tight slap on my right ass cheek. Oh wait, did my dress ride up when I bent over, or did he do that expertly when he smacked me? Too late, can't do anything in front of him.

Rahim retreated a bit, to give me space. The bastard was playing me. Teasing me. But he didn't stop arguing.

"Here's the thing. You reinforcing your femininity, subjecting yourself to patriarchal norms, made you get your points across to students better, as you captivated their minds. I think that's a win. So for feminist sensitization or awareness, you need to continue whatever you're doing. Next time, ditch the bra. I'm running late, Manisha. I have soccer practice now. See you tomorrow," said he, and winked and left.

I was left feeling empty and full at the same time.

Empty because he took away my professional dignity and moral high ground that I possessed over my students, and him. And full, because of how overwhelmed I was about the experience. Was I to take orders about my fashion choices now? How did I, a feminist professor with strong ideals, let myself be spanked by a nobody, a stranger, an inferior in the college hierarchy, and not even rebuke him?

As he left me alone in my office, I was pondering what to do, how to face Him tomorrow, questioning my own identity and still thinking about the next day.

*End of Part One.*