Most will know, but a reminder still. An Indian student drives back from a movie with her friend, on a bus. She gets raped, brutally molested and thrown out of the moving vehicle in Delhi, like an emptied soda bottle. The woman is now in Singapore, fighting for her life, in a hospital that is specialised in organ transplant, while suffering ‘significant brain injury’ (29/12/2012: the lady has died). The perpetrators have been arrested, riots have rocked the streets of Delhi, and a debate has exploded in India on the way women are seen, used, abused and sacrificed.

I am a man. And I am more than sick and tired of the way many of my “brothers” see themselves, their entitlements, their world and the women in it. What I do not understand, is why there are not many, many, many more men outraged at this despicable behaviour of our brethren.

This violent abuse is aimed at our wives, our sisters, our mothers, our nieces and cousins, aunts and neighbours, our daughters. And yet, there seems to be some unspoken rule of brotherhood that makes too many of us sit back quietly as the news events flash by our eyes, and as news of yet another rape reaches our ear drums. Why? (continue here…)